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THE AMERICAN COMMONWEALTH 



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AMERICAN COMMONWEALTH 



BY 

JAMES BRYCE 

AFTIIOR OF ''Till-: HOLY ROMAN EMPIRE" 
M.P. FOR ABERDEEN 



IX TWO VOLUMES 

VOL. II 

The Party System — Public Opinion — Illustrations 
and Reflections — Social Institutions 



THIRD EDITION 

completely revised throughout 

with additional chapters 



Nefco gorfc 
MACMILLAN AND CO. 

AND LONDON 

1895 

All rights reserved 



I 






Copyright. 1894, 
By MACMILLAN AND CO. 



By Transfer 
0. C. Public Library 
AP* 2 1936 



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: . 



JNorfoooti -$rrss : 

J. S. Cushing & Co. — Berwick & Smith. 

Boston, Mass., U.S.A. 



JU5- ip^l 



CONTENTS 



PART III — The Party System 

< HAP. page 

liiz. Political Parties and their History ... 3 

lit. The Parties of To-day 21 

ly. Composition of the Parties 30 

lyi. Further Observations on the Parties ... 39 

lyii. The Politicians 55 

lviii. Why the Best Men do not go into Politics . . 69 

lix. Party Organizations 76 

lx. The Machine 82 

lxi. What the Machine has to do 90 

lxii. How the Machine Works 97 

lxiii. Rings and Bosses 107 

lxiy. Local Extension of Rings and Bosses . . . 120 

lxy. Spoils 131 

lxvi. Elections and their Machinery .... 142 

lxvii. Corruption 154 

lxviii. The War against Bossdom 166 

lxix. Nominating Conventions 175 

lxx. The Nominating Convention at Work . . . 185 
lxxi. The Presidential Campaign ..... 203 
lxxii. The Issues in Presidential Elections . . . 213 
lxxiii. Further Observations on Nominations and Elec- 
tions . 220 

lxxiv. Types of American Statesmen 228 

lxxv. What the People Think of it 237 



CONTENTS 



PART IV — Public Opinion 

(HAP. 

lxxvi. The Nature of Public Opinion .... 
lxxvii. Government by Public Opinion, 
lxxviii. How Public Opinion Rules in America . 

lxxix. Organs or Public Opinion 

lxxx. National Characteristics as Moulding Public 

Opinion 

lxxxi. Classes as Influencing Opinion 
lxxxii. Local Types of Opinion — East, West, and South 
lxxxiii. The Action of Public Opinion .... 
lxxxiv. The Tyranny of the Majority .... 
lxxxv. The Fatalism of the Multitude 
lxxxvi. Wherein Public Opinion Fails .... 
lxxxvii. Wherein Public Opinion Succeeds . 



PART V — Illustrations and Reflections 



lxxxviii. The Tammany Ring in New York City . 
lxxxix. The Philadelphia Gas Ring 

xc. Kearneyism in California . . . 
xci. The Home of the Nation .... 
xcn. The South since the War .... 
xciii. Present and Future of the Negro . 
xciv. Foreign Policy and Territorial Extension 

xcv. Laissez Faire 

xcvi. Woman Suffrage . • 

xcvn. The Supposed Faults of Democracy 
xcviii. The True Faults of American Democracy 
xcix. The Strength of American Democracy . 

c How far American Experience is Available koi 
Europe 



g:t; 



CONTEN is 



PART VI Social [NSTITUTIONS 

0BAP. PAGE 

ci. The Bar . . 617 

en. 'I'm Bj sen 682 

cui. Railboads ......... 643 

Civ. Wall Street ........ 656 

CV. Tut: Universities .... G0-*i 

cvi. The Churches' and the Clergy ... 695 

cvii. The Influence of Religion 714 

cvm. The Position of Women 728 

n\. Equality ....... . 744 

ex. The Influence of Democracy on Thought . . 757 

cxi. Creative Intellectual Power .... 767 

CXII. The Relation of the United States to Europe . 781 

cxiii. The Absence of a Capital 791 

xiv. American Oratory ....... 799 

civ. The Pleasantness of American Life . 808 

cxvi. The Uniformity of American Life .... 816 

cxvn. The Temper of the West 829 

cxviii. The Future of Political Institutions < . . 840 

cxix. Social and Economic Future . . . . . 854 



APPENDIX 
INDEX . 



875 

881 



PART III 

THE PARTY SYSTEM 



CHAPTER LIII 

POLITICAL PARTIES AND THEIR HISTORY 

In the preceding chapters I have endeavoured to describe 
the legal framework of American government as it exists both 
in the nation and in the States. Beginning from the Federal 
and State Constitutions we have seen what sort of a structure 
has been erected upon them as a foundation, what methods of 
legislation and administration have been developed, what 
results these methods have produced. It is only occasionally 
and incidentally that we have had to consider the influence 
upon political bodies and methods of those extra-legal group- 
ings of men called political parties. But the spirit and force 
of party has in America been as essential to the action of the 
machinery of government as steam is to a locomotive engine ; 
or, to vary the simile, party association and organization are 
to the organs of government almost what the motor nerves are 
to the muscles, sinews, and bones of the human body. They 
transmit the motive power, they determine the directions in 
which the organs act. A description of them is therefore a 
necessary complement to an account of the Constitution and 
government ; for it is into the hands of the parties that the 
working of the government has fallen. Their ingenuity, stim- 
ulated by incessant rivalry, has turned many provisions of the 
Constitution to unforeseen uses, and given to the legal institu- 
tions of the country no small part of their present colour. 

To describe the party system is, however, much harder than 
it has been to describe those legal institutions. Hitherto we 
have been on comparatively firm ground, for we have had 
definite data to rely upon, and the facts set forth have been 
mostly patent facts which can be established from books and 
documents. But now we come to phenomena for a knowledge 
of which one must trust to a variety of flying and floating 



4 THE PARTY SYSTEM part hi 

sources, to newspaper paragraphs, to the conversation of 
American acquaintances, to impressions formed on the spot 
from seeing incidents and hearing stories and anecdotes, the 
authority for which, though it seemed sufficient at the time, 
cannot always be remembered. Nor have I the advantage of 
being able to cite any previous treatise on the subject; for 
though the books and articles dealing with the public life of 
the United States may be counted by hundreds, I know of no 
author who has set himself to describe impartially the actual 
daily working of that part of the vast and intricate political 
machine which lies outside the Constitution, nor, what is more 
important still, the influences which sway the men by whom 
this machine has been constructed and is daily manipulated. 
The task, however, cannot be declined ; for it is that very part 
of my undertaking which, even though imperfectly performed, 
may be most serviceable to the student of modern politics. 
A philosopher in Germany, who had mastered all the treatises 
on the British Constitution, perused every statute of recent 
years, and even followed through the newspapers the debates 
in Parliament, would know far less about the government and 
politics of England than he might learn by spending a month 
there conversing with practical politicians, and watching the 
daily changes of sentiment during a parliamentary crisis or a 
general election. 

So, too, in the United States, the actual working of party 
government is not only full of interest and instruction, but is 
so unlike what a student of the Federal Constitution could 
have expected or foreseen, that it is the thing of all others 
which any one writing about America ought to try to portray. 
In the knowledge of a stranger there must, of course, be serious 
gaps. But since no native American has yet essayed the task 
of describing the party system of his country, it is better that 
a stranger should address himself to it, than that the inquiring 
European should have no means of satisfying his curiosity. 
And a native American writer, even if he steered clear of par- 
tisanship, which I think he might, for in no country does one 
find a larger number of philosophically judicial observers of 
politics, would suffer from his own familiarity with many of 
those very things which a stranger finds perplexing. Thus 
European and even American readers may find in the sort of 



cuvr. i. in POLITICAL PARTIES AND THF.l li HISTOKY G 

perspective which a stranger gets of transatlantic, phenomena, 
some compensation for his necessarily inferior knowledge of 
details. 

In America the great moving forces are the parties. The 
government counts for loss than in Europe, the parties count 
lor more; ami the fewer have become their principles and the 
fainter their interest in those principles, the more perfect has 
become their organization. The less of nature the more of 
art ; the less spontaneity the more mechanism. But before I 
attempt to describe this organization, something must be said 
of the doctrines which the parties respectively profess, and 
the explanation of the doctrines involves a few preliminary 
words upon the history of party in America. 

Although the early colonists carried with them across the 
sea some of the habits of English political life, and others may 
have been subsequently imitated from the old country, the 
parties of the United States are pure home growths, developed 
by the circumstances of the nation. The English reader who 
attempts, as Englishmen are apt to do, to identify the great 
American parties with his own familiar Whigs and Tories, or 
even to discover a general similarity between them, had better 
give up the attempt, for it will lead him hopelessly astray. 
Here and there we find points of analogy rather than of resem- 
blance, but the moment we try to follow out the analogy it 
breaks down, so different are the issues on which English and 
American politics have turned. 

In the United States, the history of party begins with the 
Constitutional Convention of 1787 at Philadelphia. In its de- 
bates and discussions on the drafting of the Constitution there 
were revealed two opposite tendencies, which soon afterwards 
appeared on a larger scale in the State Conventions, to which 
the new instrument was submitted for acceptance. These were 
the centrifugal and centripetal tendencies — a tendency to 
maintain both the freedom of the individual citizen and the 
independence in legislation, in administration, in jurisdiction, 
indeed in everything except foreign policy and national de- 
fence, of the several States ; an opposite tendency to subor- 
dinate the States to the nation and vest large powers in the 
central Federal authority. 

The charge against the Constitution that it endangered 



6 THE PARTY SYSTEM part hi 

State rights evoked so much, alarm that some States were in- 
duced to ratify only by the promise that certain amendments 
should be added, which were accordingly accepted in the course 
of the next three years. When the machinery had been set in 
motion by the choice of George Washington as president, and 
with him of a Senate and a House of Representatives, the ten- 
dencies which had opposed or supported the adoption of the 
Constitution reappeared not only in Congress but in the Presi- 
dent's cabinet, where Alexander Hamilton, secretary of the 
treasury, counselled a line of action which assumed and re- 
quired the exercise of large powers by the Federal gov- 
ernment, while Jefferson, the secretary of state, desired to 
practically restrict its action to foreign affairs. The advocates 
of a central national authority had begun to receive the name 
of Federalists, and to act pretty constantly together, when an 
event happened which, while it tightened their union, finally 
consolidated their opponents also into a party. This was the 
creation of the French Republic and its declaration of war 
against England. The Federalists, who were shocked by the 
excesses of the Terror of 1793, counselled neutrality, and were 
more than ever inclined to value the principle of authority, 
and to allow the Federal power a wide sphere of action. The 
party of Jefferson, who had now retired from the adminis- 
tration, were pervaded by sympathy with French ideas, were 
hostile to England whose attitude continued to be discourteous, 
and sought to restrict the interference of the central govern- 
ment with the States, and to allow the fullest play to the 
sentiment of State independence, of local independence, of per- 
sonal independence. This party took the name of Republicans 
or Democratic Republicans, and they are the predecessors of 
the present Democrats. Both parties were, of course, attached 
to Republican government — that is to say, were alike hostile 
to a monarchy. But the Jeffersonians had more faith in the 
masses and in leaving things alone, together with less respect 
for authority, so that in a sort of general way one may say 
that while one party claimed to be the apostles of Liberty, the 
other represented the principle of Order. 

These tendencies found occasions for combating one another, 
not only in foreign policy and in current legislation, but also 
in the construction and application of the Constitution. Like 



t-iiAP. Lin POLITICAL PAKTTES AND Til Kill BISTOBT 7 

all documentSj and especially documents which have been 
formed by a series of compromises between opposite views, it 
and is susceptible of various interpretations, which the 
aeuteness of both sets of partisans was busy in discovering 
and expounding. While the piercing intellect of Hamilton 
developed all those of its provisions which invested the Fed- 
eral Congress and President with far-reaching powers, and 
sought to build up a system of institutions which should give 
to these provisions their full effect, Jefferson and his coadju- 
tors appealed to the sentiment of individualism, strong in the 
masses of the people, and, without venturing to propose alter- 
ations in the text of the Constitution, protested against all ex- 
tensions of its letter, and against all the assumptions of Federal 
authority which such extensions could be made to justify. 
Thus two parties grew up with tenets, leaders, impulses, sym- 
pathies, and hatreds, hatreds which soon became so bitter as 
not to spare the noble and dignified figure of Washington him- 
self, whom the angry Eepublicans assailed with invectives the 
more unbecoming because his official position forbade him to 
reply. 1 

At first the Federalists had the best of it, for the reaction 
against the weakness of the old Confederation which the Union 
had superseded disposed sensible men to tolerate a strong 
central power. The President, though not a member of either 
party, was, by force of circumstances, as well as owing to the 
influence of Hamilton, practically with the Federalists. But 
during the presidency of John Adams, who succeeded Wash- 
ington, they committed grave errors. When the presidential 
election of 1800 arrived, it was seen that the logical and ora- 
torical force of Hamilton's appeals to the reason of the nation 
told far less than the skill and energy with which Jefferson 
played on their feelings and prejudices. The Republicans 
triumphed in the choice of their chief, who retained power for 
eight years (he was re-elected in 1804), to be peaceably suc- 
ceeded by his friend Madison for another eight years (elected 
in 1808, re-elected in 1812), and his disciple Monroe for eight 
years more (elected in 1816, re-elected in 1820). Their long- 
continued tenure of office was due not so much to their own 

1 In mockery of the title he had won from public gratitude a few years be- 
fore, he was commonly called by them " The stepfather of his country." 



THE PARTY SYSTEM 



merits, for neither Jefferson nor Madison conducted foreign 
affairs with success, as to the collapse of their antagonists. 
The Federalists never recovered from the blow given in the 
election of 1800. They lost Hamilton by death in 1804. No 
other leader of equal gifts appeared, and the party, which had 
shown little judgment in the critical years 1810-14, finally disap- 
pears from sight after the second peace with England in 1815. 

One cannot note the disappearance of this brilliant figure, 
to Europeans the most interesting in the earlier history of the 
Republic, without the remark that his countrymen seem to 
have never, either in his lifetime or afterwards, duly recog- 
nized his splendid gifts. Washington is, indeed, a far more 
perfect character. Washington stands alone and unapproach- 
able, like a snow-peak rising above its fellows into the clear 
air of morning, with a dignity, constancy, and purity which 
have made him the ideal type of civic virtue to succeeding 
generations. No greater benefit could have befallen the 
Republic than to have such a type set from the first before the 
eye and mind of the people. But Hamilton, of a virtue not so 
flawless, touches us more nearly, not only by the romance of 
his early life and his tragic death, but by a certain ardour and 
impulsiveness, and even tenderness of soul, joined to a courage 
equal to that of Washington himself. Equally apt for war 
and for civil government, with a profundity and amplitude of 
view rare in practical soldiers or statesmen, he stands in the 
front rank of a generation never surpassed in history, a gen- 
eration which includes Burke and Fox and Pitt and G-rattan, 
Stein and Hardenberg and William von Humboldt, Wellington 
and Napoleon. Talleyrand, who seems to have felt for him 
something as near affection as that cold heart could feel, said, 
after knowing all the famous men of the time, that only Fox 
and Napoleon were Hamilton's equals, and that he had divined 
Europe, having never seen it. 

This period (1788-1824) may be said to constitute the first 
act in the drama of American party history. The people, 
accustomed hitherto to care only for their several common- 
wealths, learn to value and to work their new national institu- 
tions. They become familiar with the Constitution itself, as 
partners get to know, when disputes arise among them, the 
provisions of the partnership deed under which their business 



chap. Lin POLITICAL PARTIES AND THEIR HISTORt <> 

has to be carried oil It is found that the existence of a cen- 
tral Federal power docs not annihilate the States, so the 
apprehensions on that score are allayed. It is also discovered 
that there are unforeseen directions, such for instance as ques- 
tions relating to banking and currency and internal communica- 
tions, through which the Federal power can strengthen its hold 
on the nation. Differences of view and feeling give rise to 
parties, yet parties are formed by no means solely on the basis 
of general principles, but owe much to the influence of promi- 
nent personalities, of transient issues, of local interests or prej- 
udices. The small farmers and the Southern men generally 
follow the Republican standard borne aloft by the great State 
of Virginia, while the strength of the Federalists lies in New 
England and the middle States, led sometimes by Massachu- 
setts, sometimes by Pennsylvania. The commercial interest 
was with the Federalists, and the staid solid Puritanism of all 
classes, headed by the clergy. Some one indeed has described 
the struggle from 1796 to 1808 as one between Jefferson, who 
was an avowed free-thinker, and the jSTew England ministers; 
and no doubt the ministers of religion did in the Puritan States 
exert a political influence approaching that of the Presbyterian 
clergy in Scotland during the seventeenth century. Jefferson's 
importance lies in the fact that he became the representative 
not merely of democracy, but of local democracy, of the notion 
that government is hardly wanted at all, that the people are 
sure to go right if they are left alone, that he who resists 
authority is prima facie justified in doing so, because authority 
is prima facie tyrannical, that a country where each local body 
in its own local area looks after the objects of common con- 
cern, raising and administering any such funds as are needed, 
and is interfered with as little as possible by any external 
power, comes nearest to the ideal of a truly free people. Some 
intervention on the part of the State there must be, for the 
State makes the law and appoints the judges of appeal ; but 
the less one has to do with the State, and a fortiori the 
less one has to do with the still less popular and more 
encroaching Federal authority, so much the better. Jefferson 
impressed this view on his countrymen with so much force and 
such personal faith that he became a sort of patron saint of 
freedom in the eyes of the next generation, who used to name 



10 THE PARTY SYSTEM part hi 

1 . . 

their children after him, 1 and to give dinners and deliver high- 
flown speeches on his birthday, a festival only second in impor- 
tance to the immortal Fourth of July. He had borrowed from 
the Revolutionists of France even their theatrical ostentation 
of simplicity. He rejected the ceremonial with which Washing- 
ton had sustained the chief magistracy of the nation, declaring 
that to him there was no majesty but that of the people. 

As New England was, by its system of local self-govern- 
ment through the town meeting, as well as by the absence of 
slavery, in some respects the most democratic part of the 
United States, it may seem surprising that it should have 
been a stronghold of the Federalists. The reason is to be 
found partly in its Puritanism, which revolted at the deism or 
atheism of the French revolutionists, partly in the interests of 
its shipowners and merchants, who desired above all things a 
central government which, while strong enough to make and 
carry out treaties with England and so secure the develop- 
ment of American commerce, should be able also to reform 
the currency of the country and institute a national bank- 
ing system. Industrial as well as territorial interests were 
already beginning to influence politics. That the mercantile 
and manufacturing classes, with all the advantages given them 
by their wealth, their intelligence, and their habits of co-oper- 
ation, should have been vanquished by the agricultural masses, 
may be ascribed partly to the fact that the democratic impulse 
of the War of Independence was strong among the citizens 
who had grown to manhood between 1780 and 1800, partly to 
the tactical errors of the Federalist leaders, but largely also 
to the skill which Jefferson showed in organizing the hitherto 
undisciplined battalions of Republican voters. Thus early in 
American history was the secret revealed, which Europe is 
only now discovering, that in free countries with an extended 
suffrage, numbers without organization are helpless and with 
it omnipotent. 

I have ventured to dwell on this first period, because being 
the first it shows the origin of tendencies which were to gov- 

1 It is related of a New England clergyman that when, heing about to bap- 
tize a child, he asked the father the child's name, and the father replied, 
"Thomas Jefferson," he answered in a loud voice, " No such unchristian name : 
John Adams, I baptize thee," with the other sacramental words of the rite. 



chap, uu POLITICAL PARTIES AM) THEIB BISTORT 11 

era the subsequent course of party strife. But as I am Dot 
writing a history of the United States I pass by the particular 

issues over which the two parties wrangled, most- of them long 
since extinct. One remark is however needed as to the view 
which each took of the Constitution. Although the Federal- 
ists were in general the advocates of a loose and liberal con- 
struct ion of the fundamental instrument, because such a con- 
struction opened a wider sphere to Federal power, they were 
ready, whenever their local interests stood in the way, to 
resist Congress and the executive, alleging that the latter 
were overstepping their jurisdiction. In 1814 several of the 
New England States, where the opposition to the war then 
being waged with England was strongest, sent delegates to 
a convention at Hartford, which, while discussing the best 
means for putting an end to the war and restricting the pow- 
ers of Congress in commercial legislation, was suspected of 
meditating a secession of the trading States from the Union. 
On the other hand, the [Republicans did not hesitate to stretch 
to their utmost, when they were themselves in power, all the 
authority which the Constitution could be construed to allow 
to the executive and the Federal government generally. The 
boldest step which a president has ever taken, the purchase 
from Napoleon of the vast territories of France west of the 
Mississippi which went by the name of Louisiana, was taken 
by Jefferson without the authority of Congress. Congress 
subsequently gave its sanction. But Jefferson and many of 
his friends held that under the Constitution even Congress 
had not the power to acquire new territories to be formed into 
States. They were therefore in the dilemma of either violat- 
ing the Constitution or losing a golden opportunity of secur- 
ing the Republic against the growth on its western frontier of 
a powerful and possibly hostile foreign State. Some of them 
tried to refute their former arguments against a lax construc- 
tion of the Constitution, but many others avowed the dangerous 
doctrine that if Louisiana could be brought in only by break- 
ing down the walls of the Constitution, broken they must be. 1 

1 The best authorities now hold that the Constitution does permit the 
Federal government to acquire the new territory, and Congress to form States 
out of it. Many of the Federalist leaders warmly opposed the purchase, hut 
the far-seeing patriotism of Hamilton defended it. 



12 THE PARTY SYSTEM part in 

The disappearance of the Federal party between 1815 and 
1820 left the Republicans masters of the field. But in the 
United States if old parties vanish nature quickly produces 
new ones. Sectional divisions soon arose among the men who 
joined in electing Monroe in 1820, and under the influence of 
the personal hostility of Henry Clay and Andrew Jackson 
(chosen President in 1828), two great parties were again 
formed (about 1830) which some few years later absorbed the 
minor groups. One of these two parties carried on, under the 
name of Democrats, the dogmas and traditions of the Jeffer- 
sonian Eepublicans. It was the defender of States' Rights 
and of a restrictive construction of the Constitution ; it leant 
mainly on the South and the farming classes generally, and it 
was therefore inclined to free trade. The other section, which 
called itself at first the National Republican, ultimately the 
Whig party, represented many of the views of the former 
Federalists, such as their advocacy of a tariff for the protec- 
tion of manufactures, and of the expenditure of public money 
on internal improvements. It was willing to increase the 
army and navy, and like the Federalists found its chief, 
though by no means its sole, support in the commercial and 
manufacturing parts of the country, that is to say, in New 
England and the middle States. Meantime a new question 
far more exciting, far more menacing, had arisen. In 1819, 
when Missouri applied to be admitted into the Union as a 
State, a sharp contest broke out in Congress as to whether 
slavery should be permitted within her limits, nearly all the 
Northern members voting against slavery, nearly all the 
Southern members for it. The struggle might have threat- 
ened the stability of the Union but for the compromise 
adopted next year, which, while admitting slavery in Missouri, 
forbade it for the future north of lat. 36° 30'. The danger 
seemed to have passed, but in its very suddenness there had 
been something terrible. Jefferson, then over seventy, said 
that it startled him "like a fire-bell in the night." After 1840 
things grew more serious, for whereas up till that time new 
States had been admitted substantially in pairs, a slave State 
balancing a free State, it began to be clear that this must 
shortly cease, since the remaining territory out of which new 
States would be formed lay north of the line 36° 30'. As 



chap, uii POLITICAL PABTTES AND THEIR IMSTOKY 13 

every State hold two seats in the Senate, the then existing 
balance in that chamber between slave States and free States, 
would evidently soon he overset by the admission of a larger 
number of tin 1 latter. The apprehension of this event, with 
its probable result of legislation unfriendly to slavery, stimu- 
lated tin' South to the annexation of Texas, and made them 
increasingly sensitive to the growth, slow as that growth was, 
of Abolitionist opinions at the North. The question of the 
extension of slavery west of the Missouri river had become 
by L850 the vital and absorbing question for the people of the 
United States, and as in that year California, having organ- 
ized herself without slavery, was knocking at the doors of 
Congress for admission as a State, it had become an urgent 
question which evoked the hottest passions, and the victors in 
which would be victors all along the line. But neither of the 
two great parties ventured to commit itself either way. The 
Southern Democrats hesitated to break with those Democrats 
of the Northern States who sought to restrict slavery. The 
Whigs of the North, fearing to alienate their Southern allies 
by any decided action against the growing pretensions of the 
slave-holders, temporized and suggested compromises which 
practically served the cause of slavery. Anxious to save at 
all hazards the Union as it had hitherto stood, they did not 
perceive that changes of circumstances and feeling were mak- 
ing this effort a hopeless one, and that in trying to keep their 
party together they were losing hold of the people, and alien- 
ating from themselves the men who cared for principle in 
politics. That this was so presently appeared. The Demo- 
cratic party had by 1852 passed almost completely under the 
control of the slave-holders, and was adopting the dogma that 
Congress enjoyed under the Constitution no power to prohibit 
slavery in the territories. This dogma obviously overthrew 
as unconstitutional the Missouri compromise of 1820. The 
Whig leaders discredited themselves by Henry Clay's com- 
promise scheme of 1850, which, while admitting California as 
a free State, appeased the South by the Fugitive Slave Law. 
They received a crushing defeat at the presidential election of 
1852 ; and what remained of their party finally broke in pieces 
in 1854 over the bill for organizing Kansas as a territory in 
which the question of slaves or no slaves should be left to the 



14 THE PARTY SYSTEM part hi 

people, a bill which, of course repealed the Missouri compro- 
mise. Singularly enough, the two great orators of the party, 
Henry Clay and Daniel Webster, both died in 1852, wearied 
with strife and disappointed in their ambition of reaching the 
presidential chair. Together with Calhoun, who passed away 
two years earlier, they are the ornaments of this generation, 
not indeed rising to the stature of Washington or Hamilton, 
but more remarkable than any, save one, among the statesmen 
who have followed them. With them ends the second period 
in the annals of American parties, which, extending from 
about 1820 to 1856, includes the rise and fall of the Whig 
party. Most of the controversies which filled it have become 
matter for history only. But three large results, besides the 
general democratization of politics, stand out. One is the 
detachment of the United States from the affairs of the Old 
World. Another is the growth of a sense of national life, 
especially in the Northern and Western States, along with 
the growth at the same time of a secessionist spirit among the 
slave-holders. And the third is the development of the com- 
plex machinery of party organization, with the adoption of the 
principle on which that machinery so largely rests, that pub- 
lic office is to be enjoyed only by the adherents of the Presi- 
dent for the time being. 

The Whig party having begun to fall to pieces, the Democrats 
seemed to be for the moment, as they had been once before, left 
in possession of the field. But this time a new antagonist was 
swift to appear. The growing boldness of the slave-owners had 
already alarmed the Northern people when they were startled 
by a decision of the Supreme court, pronounced early in 1857 in 
the case of the slave Dred Scott, which laid down the doctrine 
that Congress had no power to forbid slavery anywhere, and that 
a slave-holder might carry his slaves with him whither he 
pleased, seeing that they were mere objects of property, whose 
possession the Constitution guaranteed. 1 This completed the 
formation out of the wrecks of the Whigs and Know-nothings 
or "American party," together with the Free Soilers and 
"Liberty" party of a new party, which in 1856 had run Fre- 
mont as its presidential candidate and taken the name of Repub- 

1 This broad doctrine was not necessary for the decision of the case, but 
delivered as an obiter dictum by the majority of the court. 



chap, i.ni POLITICAL PASTIES AND THK1K BISTOR1 16 

liean. At the same time an apple of discord was thrown among 
the Democrats. In 1860 the Latter could -not agree upon a 
candidate for President. The Southern wing pledged them- 
selves to one man, the Northern wing to another; a body of 
hesitating and semi-detached politicians put forward a third. 
Thus the Republicans through the divisions of their oppo- 
nents triumphed in the election of Abraham Lincoln, presently 
followed by the secession of eleven slave States. 

The Republican party, which had started by proclaiming the 
right of Congress to restrict slavery and had subsequently de- 
nounced the Dred Scott decision, was of course throughout the 
Civil War the defender of the Union and the assertor of Federal 
authority, stretched, as was unavoidable, to lengths previously 
unheard of. When the war was over, there came the difficult 
task of reconstructing the now reconquered slave States, and of 
securing the position in them of the lately liberated negroes. 
The outrages perpetrated on the latter, and on white settlers in 
some parts of the South, required further exertions of Federal 
authority, and made the question of the limit of that authority 
still a practical one, for the old Democratic party, almost 
silenced during the war, had now reappeared in full force as 
the advocate of State rights, and the watchful critic of any 
undue stretches of Federal authority. It was deemed neces- 
sary to negative the Dred Scott decision and set at rest all 
questions relating to slavery and to the political equality of 
the races by the adoption of three important amendments 
to the Constitution. The troubles of the South by degrees 
settled down as the whites regained possession of the State 
governments and the Northern troops began to be withdrawn. 
In the presidential election of 1876 the war question and 
negro question had become dead issues, for it was plain that a 
large and increasing number of the voters were no longer, 
despite the appeals of the Republican leaders, seriously con- 
cerned about them. 

This election marks the close of the third period, which 
embraces the rise and overwhelming predominance of the 
Republican party. Formed to resist the extension of slavery, 
led on to destroy it, compelled by circumstances to expand 
the central authority in a way unthought of before, that party 
had now worked out its programme and fulfilled its original 



16 THE PARTY SYSTEM part hi 

mission. The old aims were accomplished, but new ones had 
not yet been substituted, for though new problems had ap- 
peared, the party was not prepared with solutions. Similarly 
the Democratic party had discharged its mission in defending 
the rights of the reconstructed States, and criticising excesses 
of executive power; similarly it too had refused to grapple 
either with the fresh questions which had begun to arise since 
the war, or with those older questions which had now re- 
appeared above the subsiding flood of war days. The old 
parties still stood as organizations, and still claimed to be the 
exponents of principles. Their respective principles had, 
however, little direct application to the questions which con- 
fronted and divided the nation. A new era was opening 
which called either for the evolution of new parties, or for the 
transformation of the old ones by the adoption of tenets and 
the advocacy of views suited to the needs of the time. But 
this fourth period, which began with 1876, has not yet seen 
such a transformation, and we shall therefore find, when we 
come to examine the existing state of parties, that there is an 
unreality and lack of vital force in both Eepublicans and 
Democrats, powerful as their organizations are. 

The foregoing sketch, given only for the sake of explaining 
the present condition of parties, suggests some observations 
on the foundations of party in America. 

If we look over Europe we shall find that the grounds on 
which parties have been built and contests waged since the 
beginning of free governments have been in substance but few. 
In the hostility of rich and poor, or of capital and labour, in 
the fears of the Haves and the desires of the Have-nots, we 
perceive the most frequent ground, though it is often dis- 
guised as a dispute about the extension of the suffrage or some 
other civic right. Questions relating to the tenure of land 
have played a large part ; so have questions of religion ; so 
too have animosities or jealousies of race ; and of course the 
form of government, whether it shall be a monarchy or a re- 
public, has sometimes been in dispute. None of these grounds 
of quarrel substantially affected American parties during the 
three periods we have been examining. No one has ever 
advocated monarchy, or a restricted suffrage, or a unified in- 
stead of a Federal republic. Nor down to 1876 was there 



chap, mi POLITICAL PARTIES AND THEIR HISTORY 17 

over any party which could promise more to the poor than its 
opponents. In L852 the Know-nothing party came forward 
as the organ ol' native American opinion against recent immi- 
grants, then still chiefly the Irish, (though German immigra- 
tion had begun to swell from IS 19 onwards), and the not un- 
natural tendency to resent the power of foreign voters has 
sometimes since appeared in various parts of the country. 
But as this • American ' party, for a time powerful by the ab- 
sorption of many id' the Whigs, tailed to face the problem of 
slavery, and roused jealousy by its secret organization, it soon 
passed away, though it deserves to be remembered as a force 
disintegrating the then existing parties. The complete equal- 
ity of all sects, with the perfect neutrality of the government 
in religious matters, has fortunately kept religious passion 
outside the sphere of politics. The only exceptions to be 
noted are the occasionally recurring outbreaks, during the last 
sixty years, of hostility to the Roman Catholic Church. Nor 
would these outbreaks have attained political importance but 
for the strength added to them by the feeling of the native 
against the foreigner. They have been most serious at times 
when and in places where there has been an influx of immi- 
grants from Europe large enough to seem to threaten the 
dominance of American ideas and the permanence of American 
institutions. 

Have the American parties then been formed only upon nar- 
row and local bases, have they contended for transient objects, 
and can no deeper historical meaning, no longer historical 
continuity, be claimed for them ? 

Two permanent oppositions may, I think, be discerned run- 
ning through the history of the parties, sometimes openly 
recognized, sometimes concealed by the urgency of a transi- 
tory question. One of these is the opposition between a cen- 
tralized or unitary and a federalized government. In every 
country there are centrifugal and centripetal forces at work, 
the one or the other of which is for the moment the stronger. 
There has seldom been a country in which something might 
not have been gained, in the way of good administration and 
defensive strength, by a greater concentration of power in the 
hands of the central government, enabling it to do things 
which local bodies, or a more restricted central government, 
vol. n c 



18 THE PARTY SYSTEM part hi 

could not do equally cheaply or well. Against this gain there 
is always to be set the danger that such concentration may 
weaken the vitality of local communities and authorities, and 
may enable the central power to stunt their development. 
Sometimes needs of the former kind are more urgent, or the 
sentiment of the people tends to magnify them ; sometimes 
again the centrifugal forces obtain the upper hand. English 
history shows several such alternations. But in America the 
Federal form of government has made this permanent and 
natural opposition specially conspicuous. The salient feature 
of the Constitution is the effort it makes to establish an equi- 
poise between the force which would carry the planet States 
off into space and the force which would draw them into the 
sun of the National government. There have always there- 
fore been minds inclined to take sides upon this fundamental 
question, and a party has always had something definite and 
weighty to appeal to when it claims to represent either the 
autonomy of communities on the one hand, or the majesty and 
beneficent activity of the National government on the other. 
The former has been the watchword of the Democratic party. 
The latter was seldom distinctly avowed, but was generally in 
fact represented by the Federalists of the first period, the 
Whigs of the second, the Republicans of the third. 

The other opposition, though it goes deeper and is more 
pervasive, has been less clearly marked in America, and less 
consciously admitted by the Americans themselves. It is the 
opposition between the tendency which makes some men prize 
the freedom of the individual as the first of social goods, and 
that which disposes others to insist on checking and regulating 
his impulses. The opposition of these two tendencies, the love 
of liberty and the love of order, is permanent and necessary, 
because it springs from differences in the intellect and feelings 
of men which one finds in all countries and at all epochs. There 
are always persons who are struck by the weakness of mankind, 
by their folly, their passion, their selfishness : and these per- 
sons, distrusting the action of average mankind, will always 
wish to see them guided by wise heads and restrained by strong 
hands. Such guidance seems the best means of progress, such 
restraint the only means of security. Those on the other hand 
who think better of human nature, and have more hope in their 



OHAP.un POLITICAL PARTIES AND THEIR HISTORI L9 

own tempers, hold the impulses of fclie average man bo be gen- 
erally towards justice and peace. They have faith in the 
power of reason to conquer ignorance, and of generosity to 
overbear selfishness. They arc therefore disposed to leave 

the individual alone, and to entrust the masses with power. 
Every sensible man feels in himself the struggle between these 
two tendencies, and is on his guard not to yield wholly to 
either, because the one degenerates into tyranny, the other into 
an anarchy out of which tyranny will eventually spring. The 
wisest statesman is he who best holds the balance between 
them. 

Each of these tendencies found among the fathers of the 
American Republic a brilliant and characteristic representative. 
Hamilton, who had a low opinion of mankind, but a gift and a 
passion for large constructive statesmanship, went so far in his 
advocacy of a strong government as to be suspected of wishing 
to establish a monarchy after the British pattern. He has left 
on record his opinion that the free constitution of England, 
which he admired in spite of the faults he clearly saw, could 
not be worked without its corruptions. 1 Jefferson carried 
further than any other person set in an equally responsible place 
has ever done, his faith that government is either needless or 
an evil, and that with enough liberty, everything will go well. 
An insurrection every few years, he said, must be looked for, 
and even desired, to keep government in order. The Jeffer- 
sonian tendency has always remained, like a leaven, in the 
Democratic party, though in applying Jeffersonian doctrines 
the slave-holders stopped when they came to a black skin. 
Among the Federalists, and their successors the Whigs, and 
the more recent Republicans, there has never been wanting a 
full faith in the power of freedom. The Republicans gave an 
amazing proof of it when they bestowed the suffrage on the 
negroes. Neither they nor any American party has ever pro- 
fessed itself the champion of authority and order. That would 
be a damaging profession. Nevertheless it is rather towards 
what I may perhaps venture to call the Federalist-Whig-Re- 
publican party than towards the Democrats that those who 
have valued the principle of authority have been generally 

1 David Hume had made the same remark, natural at a time when the 
power of Parliament was little checked hy responsibility to the people. 



20 THE PAKTY SYSTEM part hi 

drawn. It is for that party that the Puritan spirit, not extinct 
in America, has felt the greater affinity, for this spirit, having 
realized the sinfulness of human nature, is inclined to train 
and control the natural man by laws and force. 

The tendency that makes for a strong government being akin 
to that which makes for a central government, the Federalist- 
Whig-Republican party, which has, through its long history, 
and under its varying forms and names, been the advocate of 
the national principle, found itself for this reason also led, 
more frequently than the Democrats, to exalt the rights and 
powers of government. It might be thought that the same 
cause would have made the Republican party take sides in 
that profound opposition which we perceive to-day in all civil- 
ized peoples, between the tendency to enlarge the sphere of 
legislation and State action, and the doctrine of laissez faire. 
So far, however, this has not happened. There is more in the 
character and temper of the Republicans than of the Demo- 
crats that leans towards State interference. But neither party 
has thought out the question; neither -has shown any more 
definiteness of policy regarding it than the Tories and the 
Liberals have done in England. 

American students of history may think that I have pressed 
the antithesis of liberty and authority, as well as that of centrif- 
ugal and centripetal tendencies, somewhat too far in making 
one party a representative of each through the first century of 
the Republic. I do not deny that at particular moments the 
party which was usually disposed towards a strong government 
resisted and decried authority, while the party which specially 
professed itself the advocate of liberty sought to make authority 
more stringent. Such deviations are however compatible with 
the general tendencies I have described. And no one who has 
gained even a slight knowledge of the history of the United 
States will fall into the error of supposing that the words 
Order and Authority mean there what they have meant in the 
monarchies of Continental Europe. 



CHAPTER LIV 

THE PARTIES OF TO-DAY 

There are now two great and several minor parties in the 
United States. The great parties are the Republicans and the 
Democrats. What are their principles, their distinctive tenets, 
their tendencies ? Which of them is for free trade, for civil 
service reform, for a spirited foreign policy, for the regulation 
of telegraphs by legislation, for a national bankrupt law, for 
changes in the currency, for any other of the twenty issues 
which one hears discussed in the country as seriously involv- 
ing its welfare ? 

This is what a European is always asking of intelligent 
Republicans and intelligent Democrats. He is always asking 
because he never gets an answer. The replies leave him in 
deeper perplexity. After some months the truth begins to 
dawn upon him. Xeither party has anything definite to say 
on these issues ; neither party has any principles, any distinc- 
tive tenets. Both have traditions. Both claim to have ten- 
dencies. Both have certainly war cries, organizations, interests 
enlisted in their support. But those interests are in the main 
the interests of getting or keeping the patronage of the govern- 
ment. Tenets and policies, points of political doctrine and 
points of political practice, have all but vanished. They have 
not been thrown away but have been stripped away by Time 
and the progress of events, fulfilling some policies, blotting out 
others. All has been lost, except office or the hope of it. 

The phenomenon may be illustrated from the case of Eng- 
land, where party government has existed longer and in a more 
fully developed form than in any other part of the Old World. 1 

1 English parties are however not very ancient; they date only from the 
struggle of the Stuart kings with the Puritan and popular party in the House 
unions, and did not take regular shape as Whigs and Tories till the reign 
of Charles II. 

21 



22 THE PARTY SYSTEM 



PART III 



The essence of the English parties has lain in the existence of 
two sets of views and tendencies which divide the nation into 
two sections, the party, let ns say, though these general terms 
are not very safe, of movement and the party of standing still, 
the party of liberty and the party of order. Each section be- 
lieves in its own views, and is influenced by its peculiar ten- 
dencies, recollections, mental associations, to deal in its own 
peculiar way with every new question as it comes up. The 
particular dogmas may change : doctrines once held by Whigs 
alone may now be held by Tories also ; doctrines which Whigs 
would have rejected fifty years ago may now be part of the 
orthodox programme of the Liberal party. But the tendencies 
have been permanent and have always so worked upon the 
various fresh questions and problems which have presented 
themselves during the last two centuries, that each party has 
had not only a brilliant concrete life in its famous leaders and 
zealous members, but also an intellectual and moral life in its 
principles. These principles have meant something to those 
who held them, so that when a fresh question arose it was 
usually possible to predict how each party, how even the aver- 
age members of each party, would regard and wish to deal with 
it. Thus even when the leaders have been least worthy and 
their aims least pure, an English party has felt itself ennobled 
and inspirited by the sense that it had great objects to fight 
for, a history and traditions which imposed on it the duty of 
battling for its distinctive principles. It is because issues have 
never been lacking which brought these respective principles 
into operation, forcing the one party to maintain the cause of 
order and existing institutions, the other that of freedom and 
what was deemed progress, that the two English parties have 
not degenerated into mere factions. Their struggles for office 
have been redeemed from selfishness by the feeling that office 
was a means of giving practical effect to their doctrines. 

But suppose that in Britain all the questions which divide 
Tories from Liberals were to be suddenly settled and done with. 
Britain would be in a difficulty. Her free government has so 
long been worked by the action and reaction of the ministeri- 
alists and the opposition that there -would probably continue to 
be two parties. But they w r ould not be really, in the true old 
sense of the terms, Tories and Liberals ; they Avould be merely 



ohap. i.iv THE PARTIES OF ro-DAV 28 

Ins and Chits. Their combats would be waged hardly even in 
name for principles, but only for place. The government of 
the country, with the honour, power, and emoluments attached 
to it, would still remain as a prize to be contended for. The 
followers would still rally to the leaders ; and friendship would 
still bind the members together into organized bodies; while 
dislike and suspicion would still rouse them against their former 
adversaries. Thus not only the leaders, who would have some- 
thing tangible to gain, but even others who had only their feel- 
ings to gratify, would continue to form political clubs, register 
voters, deliver party harangues, contest elections, just as they 
do now. The difference would be that each faction would no 
longer have broad principles — I will not say to invoke, for 
such principles would probably continue to be invoked as here- 
tofore — but to insist on applying as distinctively its principles 
to the actual needs of the state. Hence quiet or fastidious men 
would not join in party struggles ; while those who did join 
would no longer be stimulated by the sense that they were con- 
tending for something ideal. Loyalty to a leader whom it was 
sought to make prime minister would be a poor substitute for 
loyalty to a faith. If there were no conspicuous leader, at- 
tachment to the party would degenerate either into mere hatred 
of antagonists or into a struggle over places and salaries. And 
almost the same phenomena would be seen if, although the old 
issues had not been really determined, both the parties should 
have so far abandoned their former positions that these issues 
did not divide them, so that each professed principles which 
were, even if different in formal statement, practicably indis- 
tinguishable in their application. 

This, which conceivably may happen in England under her 
new political conditions, is what has happened with the Ameri- 
can parties. The chief practical issues which once divided 
them have been settled. Some others have not been settled, 
but as regards these, one or other party has so departed from 
its former attitude that we cannot now speak of any conflict of 
principles. 

When life leaves an organic body it becomes useless, fetid, 
pestiferous : it is fit to be cast out or buried from sight. "What 
life is to an organism, principles are to a party. When they 
which are its soul have vanished, its body ought to dissolve, 



24 THE PARTY SYSTEM part hi 

and the elements that formed it be regrouped in some new 
organism : 

' ' The times have been 
That when the brains were out the man would die." 

But a party does not always thus die. It may hold together 
long after its moral life is extinct. Guelfs and G-hibellines 
warred in Italy for nearly two centuries after the Emperor had 
ceased to threaten the Pope, or the Pope to befriend the cities 
of Lombardy. Parties go on contending because their mem- 
bers have formed habits of joint action, and have contracted 
hatreds and prejudices, and also because the leaders find their 
advantage in using these habits and playing on these prejudices. 
The American parties now continue to exist, because they have 
existed. The mill has been constructed, and its machinery 
goes on turning, even when there is no grist to grind. But 
this is not wholly the fault of the men ; for the system of gov- 
ernment requires and implies parties, just as that of England 
does. These systems are made to be worked, and always have 
been worked, by a majority ; a majority must be cohesive, gath- 
ered into a united and organized body : such a body is a party. 

If you ask an ordinary Northern Democrat to characterize 
the two parties, he will tell you that the Kepublicans are cor- 
rupt and incapable, and will cite instances in which persons 
prominent in that party, or intimate friends of its leaders, have 
been concerned in frauds on the government or in disgraceful 
lobbying transactions in Congress. When you press him for 
some distinctive principles separating his own party from 
theirs, he will probably say that the Democrats are the pro- 
tectors of States' rights and of local independence, and the 
Eepublicans hostile to both. If you go on to inquire what 
bearing this doctrine of States' rights has on any presently 
debated issue he will admit that, for the moment, it has none, 
but will insist that should any issue involving the rights of 
the States arise, his party will be, as always, the guardian of 
American freedom. 

This is really all that can be predicated about the Democratic 
party. If a question involving the rights of a State against 
the Federal authority were to emerge, its instinct would lead 
it to array itself on the side of the State rather than of the 
central government, supposing that it had no direct motive to do 



ciiAi-. i.iv THE PARTIES OF TO-DAT 25 

the opposite. As ii has at no poinl of time, from the outbreak 

of the war down to 1892, p a majority in both Houses 

- well as the President in power, its devotion to 

this principle lias not been tested, and might not resist the 
temptation of any interest the other way. However, this is 
matter of speculation, for at present the States tear no infringe- 
ment of their rights. So conversely of the Republicans. Their 
traditions ought to dispose them to support Federal power 
against the States, but their action in a concrete case would 
probably depend on whether their party was at the time in 
condition to use that power for its own purposes. If they 
were in a minority in Congress, they would be little inclined 
to strengthen Congress against the States. The simplest way 
of proving or illustrating this will be to run quickly through 
the questions of present practical interest. 

That which most keenly interests the people, though of 
course not all the people, is the regulation or extinction of the 
liquor traffic. On this neither party has committed or will 
commit itself. The traditional dogmas of neither cover it, 
though the Democrats have been rather more disposed to leave 
men to themselves than the Eepublicans, and rather less amen- 
able to the influence of ethical sentiment. Practically for 
both parties the point of consequence is what they can gain 
or lose. Each has clearly something to lose. The drink- 
ing part of the population is chiefly foreign. Now the 
Irish are mainly Democrats, so the Democratic party dare 
not offend them. The Germans are mainly Republican, so 
the Republicans are equally bound over to caution. It is 
true that though the parties, as parties, have been, in nearly 
all States, neutral, most Temperance men are, in the North 
and West, 1 Republicans, most whiskey-men and saloon-keepers 
Democrats. The Republicans therefore more frequently at- 
tempt to conciliate the anti-liquor party by flattering phrases. 
They suffer by the starting of a Prohibitionist candidate, since 

1 The Southern negroes have usually voted for the Republicans, but are 

generally opposed to restrictions on the sale of liquor. This was strikingly 

shown in a recent popular vote on the subject in Texas. On the other hand, 

the better class of Southern whites, who are of course Democrats, arc largely 

trance men. and some J. Georgia, have adopted a local option 

... under which each county decides whether it will be " wet" or "dry" 

unit or forbid the sale of intoxicants). 



26 THE PARTY SYSTEM part hi 

he draws more voting strength away from them than he does 
from the Democrats. 

Free Trade v. Protection is another burning question, and 
has been so since the early days of the Union. The old con- 
troversy as to the constitutional right of Congress to impose 
a tariff for any object but that of raising revenue, has been 
laid to rest, for whether the people in 1788 meant or did not 
mean to confer such a power, it has been exerted for so many 
years, and on so superb a scale, that no one now doubts its 
legality. Before the war the Democrats were advocates of a 
tariff for revenue only, i.e. of Free Trade. Some of them still 
hold that doctrine in its fulness, but as the majority, though 
they favour a reduction of the present system of import duties, 
have not been clear upon the general principle, the party trum- 
pet has often given an uncertain sound. Moreover, Pennsyl- 
vania is Protectionist on account of its iron industries ; northern 
Georgia and Alabama and South-eastern Tennessee have leanings 
that way for the same reason; Louisiana has sometimes in- 
clined to Protection on account of its sugar. Unwilling to 
alienate the Democrats of three such districts, the party has 
generally sought to remain unpledged, or, at least, in winking 
with one eye to the men of the North-West and South-East 
who desire to reduce the tariff, it has been tempted to wink 
with the other to the iron men of Pittsburg and the sugar men 
of New Orleans. Thus, though the Democrats have come to 
advocate more and more strongly large changes in the present 
system, they have done this not so much on pure Free Trade 
principles, as on the ground that the surplus must be got rid 
of, and that the duties now in force oppress many classes in 
the community. The surplus has now (1894) disappeared, 
eaten up by the Pension Act of 1890, and has been replaced 
by a deficit, but the Democrats committed themselves against 
Protection in the election of 1892 more distinctly than they 
had previously done. The Republicans, all along bolder, have 
twice pledged themselves, in framing their platform, to main- 
tain the protective tariff. But some of the keenest intellects 
in their ranks, including a few leading journalists, have been 
strong for Free Trade and therefore sorely tempted to break 
with their party. Only a few, however, have on that ground 
forsaken it. 



chap, -iv THE PARTIES OF T<>-1>AY 27 

Civil service reform, whereof more hereafter, has for some 
time past received the lip service of both parties, a lip service 
expressed by both with equal warmth, and by the average pro- 
fessional politicians of both with equal insincerity. Such 
re tonus as have been effected in the mode of filling up places, 
have been forced on the parties by public opinion, rather than 
carried through by either. None of the changes made — and 
they are perhaps the most beneficial of recent changes — has 
raised an issue between the parties, or given either of them a 
claim on the confidence of the country. The best men in both 
parties support the Civil Service Commission ; the worst men 
in both would gladly get rid of it. 

The advantages of regulating, by Federal legislation, rail- 
roads and telegraphic lines extending over a number of States, 
is a subject frequently discussed. Neither party has had any- 
thing distinctive to say upon it in the way either of advocacy 
or of condemnation. Both have asserted that it is the duty of 
railways to serve the people, and not to tyrannize over or de- 
fraud them, so the Inter-State Commerce Act passed in 1887 
with this view cannot be called a party measure. Finances 
have on the whole been well managed, and debt paid off with 
surprising speed. But there have been, and are still, serious 
problems raised by the condition of the currency. Both parties 
have made mistakes, and mistakes about equally culpable, for 
though the Republicans, having more frequently commanded 
a Congressional majority, have had superior opportunities for 
blundering, the Democrats have once or twice more definitely 
committed themselves to pernicious doctrines. Neither party 
now proposes a clear and definite policy, although the Demo- 
crats have been more inclined to the free coinage of silver. 

It is the same as regards minor questions, such as woman 
suffrage or ballot reform, or convict labour. Neither party 
has any distinctive attitude on these matters ; neither is more 
likely, or less likely, than the other to pass a measure dealing 
with them. It is the same with regard to the doctrine of laissez 
faire as opposed to governmental interference. Neither Repub- 
licans nor Democrats can be said to be friends or foes of State 
interference : each will advocate it when there seems a prac- 
tically useful object to be secured, or when the popular voire 
seems to call for it. It is the same with foreign policy. Both 



28 THE PARTY SYSTEM part hi 

parties are practically agreed not only as to the general princi- 
ples which onght to rule the conduct of the country, but as to 
the application of these principles. The party which opposes 
the President may at any given moment seek to damage him 
by defeating some particular proposal he has made, but this it 
will do as a piece of temporary strategy, not in pursuance of 
any settled doctrine. 

Yet one cannot say that there is to-day no difference be- 
tween the two great parties. There is a difference of spirit 
or sentiment perceptible even by a stranger when, after having 
mixed for some time with members of the one he begins to 
mix with those of the other, and doubtless much more patent 
to a native American. It resembles (though it is less marked 
than) the difference of tone and temper between Tories and 
Liberals in England. The intellectual view of a Democrat of 
the better sort is not quite the same as that of his Eepublican 
compeer : neither is his ethical standard. Each of course thinks 
meanly of the other ; but Avhile the Democrat thinks the Eepub- 
lican " dangerous " (i.e. likely to undermine the Constitution) 
the Eepublican is more apt to think the Democrat vicious and 
reckless. So in England your Liberal fastens on stupidity as 
the characteristic fault of the Tory, while the Tory suspects 
the morals and religion more than he despises the intelligence 
of the Eadical. 

It cannot be charged on the American parties that they 
have drawn towards one another by forsaking their old prin- 
ciples. It is time that has changed the circumstances of the 
country, and made those old principles inapplicable. They 
would seem to have erred rather by clinging too long to out- 
worn issues, and by neglecting to discover and work out new 
principles capable of solving the problems which now perplex 
the country. In a country so full of change and movement as 
America new questions are always coming up, and must be 
answered. New troubles surround a government, and a way 
must be found to escape from them ; new diseases attack the 
nation, and have to be cured. The duty of a great party is to 
face these, to find answers and remedies, applying to the facts 
of the hour the doctrines it has lived by, so far as they are 
still applicable, and when they have ceased to be applicable, 
thinking out new doctrines conformable to the main principles 



cuu: lit THE PABTIBS OF To 1>.\Y 29 

and tendencies which it. represents. Tins is a work to be 
accomplished by its ruling minds, while the habit of party 
loyalty to the leaders powerfully serves to diffuse through the 
mass of followers the conclusions of the leaders and the rea- 
sonings they have employed. 

" But," the European reader may ask, "is it not the inter- 
est as well as the duty of a party thus to adapt itself to new 
conditions ? Does it not, in failing to do so, condemn itself to 
sterility and impotence, ultimately, indeed, to supersession by 
some new party which the needs of the time have created ?" 

This is what usually happens in Europe. Probably it will 
happen in the long run in America also, unless the parties 
adapt themselves to the new issues, just as the Whig party fell 
in L852-57 because it failed to face the problem of slavery. 
That it happens more slowly may be ascribed partly to the 
completeness and strength of the party organizations, which 
make the enthusiasm generated by ideas less necessary, partly 
to the growing prominence of 'social' and 'labour' questions, 
on which both parties are equally eager to conciliate the 
masses, and equally unwilling to proclaim definite views, 
partly to the fact that several questions on which the two 
great parties still hesitate to take sides are not presently vital 
to the well-being of the country. Something is also due to the 
smaller influence in America than in Europe of individual 
leaders. English parties, which hesitate long over secondary 
questions, might hesitate longer than is now their practice 
over vital ones also, were they not accustomed to look for 
guidance to their chiefs, and to defer to the opinion which the 
chiefs deliver. And it is only by courage and the capacity for 
initiative that the chiefs themselves retain their position. 



CHAPTER LV 

COMPOSITION OF THE PARTIES 

The less there is in the tenets of the Republicans and Demo- 
crats to make their character intelligible to a European reader, 
so much the more desirable is it to convey some idea of what 
may be called their social and local, their racial and ecclesiasti- 
cal complexions. 

The Republican party was formed between 1854 and 1856 
chiefly out of the wrecks of the Whig party, with the addition 
of the Abolitionists and Eree Soilers, who, disgusted at the 
apparent subservience to the South of the leading northern 
Whigs, had for some time previously acted as a group by them- 
selves, though some of them had been apt to vote for Whig can- 
didates. They had also recruits from the Free Soil Democrats, 
who had severed themselves from the bulk of the Democratic 
party, and some of whom claimed to be true Jeffersonians in 
joining the party which stood up against the spread of slavery. 1 
The Republicans were therefore from the first a Northern 
party, more distinctly so than the Federalists had been at the 
close of the preceding century, and much more distinctly so 
than the Whigs, in whom there had been a pretty strong 
Southern element. 

The Whig element brought to the new party solidity, politi- 
cal experience, and a large number of wealthy and influential 
adherents. The Abolitionist element gave it force and enthu- 
siasm, qualities invaluable for the crisis which came in 1861 
with the secession of all save four of the slave-holding States. 
During the war, it drew to itself nearly all the earnestness, 
patriotism, religious and moral fervour, which the North and 

1 The name Republican was given to the new party, not without the hope 
of thereby making it easier for these old school Democrats to join it, for in 
Jefferson's day his party had been called Republican. 
30 



nniM.v COMPOSITION OF THE PARTIES 31 

West contained. It is still, in those regions, the party in 

whoso ranks respectable, steady, pious, well-conducted men arc 
fc) be looked for. It' you find yourself dining with one of "the 
best people " in any New England city, or in Philadelphia, or 
in Cincinnati, Cleveland, Chicago, or Minneapolis, you assume 
that the guest sitting next you is a Republican, almost as con- 
fidently as in English county society you would assume your 
neighbour to be a Tory ; that is to say, you may sometimes be 
wrong, but in lour cases out of five you will be right. In New 
York the presumption is weaker, though even there you will 
be right three times out of five. One may say that all over 
the North, the merchants, manufacturers, and professional men 
of the smaller perhaps even more than of the larger towns, 
tend to be Republicans. So too are the farmers, particularly 
in the North-west. 1 The working class in the cities is divided, 
but the more solid part of it, the church-goers and total ab- 
stainers, are generally Republicans. A number, still large, 
though of course daily diminishing, are soldiers of the Civil 
War ; and these naturally rally to the old flag. When turn- 
ing southwards one reaches the borders of the old slave States, 
everything is changed. In Baltimore the best people are so 
generally Democrats that when you meet a Republican in 
society you ask whether he is not an immigrant from New 
England. This is less marked by the case in Kentucky and 
Missouri, but in Virginia, or the Carolinas, or the Gulf States, 
very few men of good standing belong to the Republican party, 
which consists of the lately enfranchised negroes, of a certain 
number of native whites, seldom well regarded, who organize 
and use the negro vote, and who twenty-five years ago were 
making a good thing for themselves out of it; of a number 
of Federal officials (a number very small when the Democrats 
are in power), who have been put into Federal places by their 
friends at Washington, on the understanding that they are to 
work for the party, and of a few stray people, perhaps settlers 
from the North who have not yet renounced their old affilia- 
tions. It is not easy for an educated man to remain a Repub- 
lican in the South, not only because the people he meets in 

1 This statement, written in 1888, is now less true, for both the Democrats 
and the so-called ' People's Party ' have gained strength in the North-western 
States since that date. 



32 THE PARTY SYSTEM part hi 

society are Democrats, but because the Republican party man- 
agers are apt to be black sheep. 

In the Middle States, New York, New Jersey, Pennsylvania, 
to which one may for this purpose add Ohio and Indiana, and 
on the Pacific slope, the parties are nearly balanced, and the 
majority of votes sways now this way now that, as the circum- 
stances of the hour, or local causes, or the merits of individual 
candidates, may affect the popular mind. Pennsylvania, for 
instance, is now, as she has been since 1860, a Republican 
State, owing to her interest in a protective tariff. New York, 
whose legislature is frequently Republican, in presidential elec- 
tions generally goes Democratic. In these doubtful States, 
the better sort of people have been mostly Republicans. It is 
in that party you look to find the greater number of the philan- 
thropists, the men of culture, the men of substance who desire 
to see things go on quietly, with no shocks given to business 
confidence by rash legislation. These are great elements of 
strength. They were gained for the Republican party by its 
earlier history, which drew into it thirty years ago those patri- 
otic and earnest young men who are now the leading elderly 
men in their respective neighbourhoods. But against them 
must be set the tendency of a section of the Republican party, 
a section small in numbers but including some men of charac- 
ter and intelligence, to break away, or, as it is called, " bolt " 
from the party platform and "ticket." This section explains 
its conduct by declaring that the great claims which the party 
gained on the confidence of the country by its resistance to 
slavery and its vigorous prosecution of the Avar have been for- 
feited by mal-administration since the war ended, and by the 
scandals which have gathered round some of its coi^icuous 
figures. If intelligence and cultivation dispose their posses- 
sors to desert at a critical moment, the party might be stronger 
without this element, for, as everybody knows, a good party 
man is he who stands by his friends when they are wrong. 

The Democratic party suffers in the North and West from 
exactly the opposite causes to the Republican. It was long 
discredited by its sympathy with the South, and by the oppo- 
sition of a considerable section within it (the so-called Copper- 
heads) to the prosecution of the war. This shadow hung heavy 
over it till the complete pacification of the South and growing 



COMPOSITION OF THE PARTIES 



prominence o( new questions began bo call men's minds away 
from the war years. From L869to L885 it' profited from being 

in opposition. Saved from the opportunity of abusing patron- 
or becoming complicated in administration jobs, it was 
able to criticize freely the blunders or vices of its opponents. 
It may however be doubted whether its party managers have 
been, take them all in all, either wiser or purer than those 
whom they criticized, nor do they seem to have inspired any 
deeper trust in the minds of impartial citizens. When, as has 
several times happened, the Democrats have obtained a major- 
ity in the House of Representatives, their legislation has not 
been higher in aim or more judicious in the choice of menus 
than that which Republican congresses have produced. Hence 
the tendency to desert from the Republican ranks has enured 
to the benefit of the Democrats less than might have been 
expected. However, the Democratic party includes not only 
nearly all the talent, education, and wealth of the South, to- 
gether with the great bulk of the Southern farmers and poor 
whites, but also a respectable and apparently increasing minority 
of good men in the Middle States, and a somewhat smaller 
minority in New England and the North-west. 1 

In these last-mentioned districts its strength lies chiefly in 
the cities, a curious contrast to those earlier days when Jeffer- 
son was supported by the farmers and Hamilton by the towns- 
folk. 2 But the large cities have now a population unlike 
anything that existed eighty years ago, a vast ignorant fluc- 
tuating mass of people, many of them recently admitted to 
citizenship, who have little reason for belonging to one party 
rather than another, but are attracted some by the name of the 
Democratic party, some by the fact that it is not the party of 
the well-to-do, some by leaders belonging to their own races 
who have risen to influence in its ranks. The adhesion of 
this mob gives the party a slight flavour of rowdyism, as its 
old associations give it, to a Puritan palate, a slight flavour of 

1 In 1892, however, several North-western States were carried by the Dem- 
ocrats. 

2 Jefferson regarded agriculture as so much the best occupation for citizens 
that lie was alarmed by the rumour that the codfish of the North-eastern coasts 
were coming down i<> the shores of Virginia and Carolina, lest the people of 
those States should "be tempted to catch them, and commerce, of which we 
have already too much, receive an accession." 

VOL. ii r> 



34 THE PARTY SYSTEM part hi 

irreligion. Twenty years ago, a New England deacon — the 
deacon is in America the type of solid respectability — would 
have found it as hard to vote for a Democratic candidate as an 
English archdeacon to vote for a Birmingham Radical. But 
these old feelings are wearing away. A new generation of 
voters has arisen which never saw slavery, and cares little 
about Jefferson for good or for evil. This generation takes 
parties as it finds them. Even among the older voters there 
has been a change within the last ten years. Many of the 
best Republicans, who remembered the Democrats as the party 
of which a strong section sympathized with the slaveholders 
before the war, and disapproved of the war while it was 
being waged, looked with horror on the advent to power in 
1885 of a Democratic president. The country, however, was 
not ruined by Mr. Cleveland, but went on much as before, its 
elements of good and evil mixed and contending, just as under 
Republican administrations. However, the Republican leaders 
still point to the fact that the Democratic party commands the 
solid vote of the States where slavery formerly existed as a 
reason why it should excite the distrust of good citizens who 
fought for the Union. 

Now that differences of political doctrine are not accentuated, 
race differences play a considerable part in the composition of 
the parties. Besides the native Americans, there are men of 
five nationalities in the United States — British, Irish, Ger- 
mans, Scandinavians, French Canadians. 1 Of these, however, 
the English and Scotch lose their identity almost immediately, 
being absorbed into the general mass of native citizens. Though 
very numerous, they have hitherto counted for nothing politi- 
cally, because they have either been indifferent to political 
struggles or have voted from the same motives as an average 
American. They have to a large extent remained British sub- 
jects, not caring for the suffrage. Recently, however, an effort 
has been made (apparently chiefly for the sake of counter- 
working the Irish) to induce them to apply for citizenship and 
exert their voting power as a united body. It may be doubted 

1 There are also Poles, Czechs, Italians, Russian Jews, and Slavs from Hun- 
gary (as well as a few Roumans and Armenians) : but their number, though it 
has increased rapidly of late years, is relatively small, except in two or three 
of the Atlantic cities, in Chicago, Milwaukee, Cleveland, St. Paul, Minneapolis, 
New Orleans, and in the mining regions of Pennsylvania. 



COMPOSITION of THE PARTIES - r > 



whether they will become citizens to any great extent, or 

whether, if they do, they will east a solid vote. 

Far otherwise with the Irish. They retain their national 
spirit and disposition to act together into the second, rarely 
however into the third, generation; they are a factor potent 
in Federal and still more potent in city politics. Now the 
Irish have hitherto been nearly all Democrats. The exodus 
from Ireland which had been considerable as far back as 1842, 
swelled in 1847 (the year after the famine) to vast proportions ; 
and was from the first a source of help to the Democratic party, 
probably because it was less Protestant in sentiment than the 
Whig party, and was already dominant in the city of New York, 
where the Irish first became a power in politics. The aversion 
to the negro which they soon developed, made them, when the 
Republican party arose, its natural enemies, for the Republi- 
cans were, both during and after the war, the negro's patrons. 
Before the war ended the Irish vote had come to form a large 
part of the Democratic strength, and Irishmen were prominent 
among the politicians of that party : hence newcomers from 
Ireland have generally enlisted under its banner. To-day, 
however, there are plenty of Irishmen, and indeed of Irish 
leaders and bosses, among the Republicans of the great cities; 
and statesmen of that party often seek to "placate" and 
attract the Irish vote in ways too familiar to need description. 

The German immigration, excluding of course the early 
German settlements in Pennsylvania, began rather later than 
the Irish; and as there is some jealousy between the two 
races, the fact that the Irish were already Democrats when 
the Germans arrived, was one reason why the latter have 
been more inclined to enrol themselves as Republicans, while 
another is to be found in the fact that German exiles of 1849 
were naturally hostile to slavery. The Germans usually be- 
come farmers in the Middle and Western States, where, find- 
ing the native farmers mainly Republicans, they imitate the 
politics of their neighbours. That there are many German 
Democrats in the great cities may be ascribed to the less 
friendly attitude of the Republicans to the liquor traffic, for 
the German colonist is faithful to the beer of his fatherland, 
and, in the case of the Roman Catholic Germans, to the tacit 
alliance which has subsisted in many districts between the 



36 THE PARTY SYSTEM part hi 

Catholic Church and the Democrats. The Germans are a 
cohesive race, keeping up national sentiment by festivals, 
gymnastic societies, processions, and national songs, but as 
they take much less keenly to politics, and are not kept to- 
gether by priests, their cohesion is more short-lived than that 
of the Irish. The American-born son of a German is already 
completely an American in feeling as well as in practical apti- 
tude. The German vote over the whole Union may be roughly 
estimated as five-ninths Republican, four-ninths Democratic. 

The Scandinavians — Swedes and Norwegians, with a few 
Danes and a handful of Icelanders — now form a respectable 
element among the farmers of the Upper Mississippi States, 
particularly Wisconsin, Minnesota, and the Dakotas. So far 
as can be judged from the short experience the country has 
of them, for it is scarce thirty years since their immigration 
began, they Americanize even more readily than their Teutonic 
cousins from the southern side of the Baltic. However, both 
Swedes and Norwegians are still so far clannish that in these 
States both parties find it worth while to run for office now 
and then a candidate of one or other, or candidates of both, of 
these nationalities, in order to catch the votes of his or their 
compatriots. 1 Nine-tenths of them were Republicans, until the 
rise of the so-called "People's Party," which has for the moment 
detached a good many. Like the Germans, they come knowing 
nothing of American politics, but the watchful energy of the 
native party-workers enlists them under a party banner as 
soon as they are admitted to civic rights. They make perhaps 
the best material for sober and industrious agriculturists that 
America receives, being even readier than the Germans to face 
hardship, and more content to dispense with alcoholic drinks. 

The French Canadians are numerous in New England, and 
in one or two other Northern States, yet scarcely numerous 
enough to tell upon politics, especially as they frequently re- 
main British subjects. Their religion disposes those who 
become citizens to side with the Democratic party, but they 

1 There is some slight jealousy between Swedes and Norwegians, so that 
where they are equally strong it is not safe to put forward a candidate of 
either race without placing on the same ticket a candidate of the other also. 
But where the population of either race is too small to support a church or a 
social institution of its own, they fraternize for this purpose, feeling them- 
selves much nearer to one another than they are to any other element. 



COMPOSITION OK THE PAKTIES 



are only beginning to constitute what is called "a vote," and 
occasionally "go Republican." 

The negroes in the Northern, Middle, and Pacific States arc 
an unimportant element. Gratitude for the favour shown to 
their race has kept them mostly Republicans. They are seldom 
admitted to a leading- place in party organizations, but it is 
found expedient in presidential contests to organize a "coloured 
elnb M to work for the candidate among the coloured population 
of a town. In States like Maryland, Kentucky, and Missouri, 
where there are plenty of white Republicans, they vote steadily 
Republican, unless paid to abstain. In the further South, 
their mere numbers would enable them, were they equal to 
the whites in intelligence, wealth, and organization, not merely 
to carry congressional seats, but even in some States to deter- 
mine a presidential election. But in these three respects they 
are unspeakably inferior. At first, under the leadership of some 
white adventurers, mostly of the " carpet-bagger " class, they 
went almost solid for the Republican party ; and occasionally, 
even since the withdrawal of Federal troops, they have turned 
the balance in its favour. Now, however, the Democrats have 
completely gained the upper hand ; and the negroes, perhaps 
losing faith in their former bosses, perhaps discouraged by 
seeing themselves unfit to cope with a superior race, perhaps 
less interested than at first in their new privileges, have begun 
to lose their solidarity. A few now vote with the Democrats. 

Religion comes very little into American party except when, 
as sometimes happens, the advance of the Roman Catholic 
Church and the idea that she exerts her influence to secure 
benefits for herself, causes an outburst of Protestant feeling. 1 
Roman Catholics are usually Democrats, because, except in 
Maryland, which is Democratic anyhow, they are mainly Irish. 
Congregationalists and Unitarians, being presumably sprung 
from New England, are apt to be Republicans. Presbyterians, 
Methodists, Baptists, Episcopalians, have no special party affin- 
ities. They are mostly Republicans in the North, Democrats 
in the South. The Mormons fight for their own hand, and in 
Utah, Idaho, and Arizona have been wont to cast their votes, 
under the direction of their hierarchy, for the local party which 

1 As recently in the formation of the American Protective Association, which 
has become a political factor in parts of the North-west. 



-66 THE PARTY SYSTEM 



promised to interfere least with them. Lately in Idaho a party 
found it worth while to run a Mormon candidate. 

The distribution of parties is to some extent geographical. 
While the South casts a solid Democratic vote, and the 
strength of the Republicans has lain in the North-east and 
North-west, the intermediate position of the Middle States 
corresponds to their divided political tendencies. The reason 
is that in America colonization has gone on along parallels of 
latitude. The tendencies of New England reappear in Northern 
Ohio, Northern Illinois, Michigan, Wisconsin, Minnesota, giv- 
ing the Republicans a general predominance in this vast and 
swiftly-growing Western population, which it takes the whole 
weight of the solid South to balance. This geographical 
opposition does not, however, betoken a danger of political 
severance. The material interests of the agriculturists of the 
North-west are not different from those of the South: free 
trade, for instance, will make as much and no more difference 
to the wheat-grower of Illinois as to the cotton-grower of 
Texas, to the iron-workers of Tennessee as to the iron-workers 
of Pennsylvania. And the existence of an active Democratic 
party in the North prevents the victory of either geographical 
section from being felt as a defeat by the other. 

This is an important security against disruption. And a 
similar security against the risk of civil strife or revolution is 
to be found in the fact that the parties are not based on or 
sensibly affected by differences either of wealth or of social 
position. Their cleavage is not horizontal according to social 
strata, but vertical. This would be less true if it were stated 
either of the Northern States separatel} r , or of the Southern 
States separately : it is true of the Union taken as a whole. 
It might cease to be true if the new labour party were to grow 
till it absorbed or superseded either of the existing parties. 
The same feature has characterized English politics as com- 
pared with those of most European countries, and has been a 
main cause of the stability of the English government and of 
the good feeling between different classes in the community. 1 

1 At the present moment the vast majority of the rich, a proportion proba- 
bly larger than at any previous time, belong in England to one of the two 
historic parties. But this phenomenon may possibly pass away. 



CHAPTER LVI 

FURTHER OBSERVATIONS OX THE PARTIES 

Besides the two great parties which have divided America 
for thirty years, there are two or three lesser organizations ol- 
factions needing a word of mention. Between sixty and 
seventy years ago there was a period when one of the two great 
parties having melted away, the other had become split up into 
minor sections. 1 Parties were numerous and unstable, new 
ones forming, and after a short career uniting with some other, 
or vanishing altogether from the scene. This was a phenome- 
non peculiar to that time, and ceased with the building up 
about 1S32 of the Whig party, which lasted till shortly before 
the Civil War. But Tocqueville, who visited America in 
L8 L-32, took it for the normal state of a democratic com- 
munity, and founded upon it some bold generalizations. A 
stranger who sees how few principles now exist to hold each 
of the two great modern parties together will be rather sur- 
prised that they have not shown more tendency to split up into 
minor groups and factions. 

What constitutes a party ? In America there is a simple 

Any section of men who nominate candidates of their 

own for the presidency and vice-presidency of the United 

s are deemed a national party. Adopting this test we 

shall find that there have lately been two or three national 

parties in addition to the Republicans and Democrats. 

The first is (or rather was) that of the Greenbackers, who 

soon after the end of the Civil War. They demanded a 

issue of greenbacks (i.e. paper money, so called from 

the colour of the notes issued during the war), alleging that 

this must benefit the poorer classes, who will obviously be 

1 The nun non reappeared at the break-up ol the Whigs between 

.1 from much the sumo cam 

3v 



40 THE PARTY SYSTEM part hi 

richer when there is more money in the country. It may 
seem incredible that there should still be masses of civilized 
men who believe that money is value, and that a liberal issue 
of stamped paper can give the poor more bread or better 
clothes. If there were a large class of debtors, and the idea 
was to depreciate the currency and let them then pay their 
debts in it, one could understand the proposal. Such a depre- 
ciation existed during and immediately after the Civil War. 
As wages and prices had risen enormously, people were receiv- 
ing more money in wages, or for goods sold, than they had re- 
ceived previously, while they were paying fixed charges, such 
as interest on mortgage debts, in a depreciated paper currency. 
Thus the small farmers were on the whole gainers, while cred- 
itors and persons with fixed incomes were losers. It is true that 
both farmers and working men were also paying more for what- 
ever they needed, food, clothes, and lodging ; still they seemed 
to have felt more benefit in receiving larger sums than they 
felt hardship in paying out larger sums. Those who now call 
for a great increase of paper money do not profess to wish to 
depreciate the currency : nor have they been to any great extent 
supported by a debtor class to which a depreciated currency 
would be welcome, as a debased coinage served the momentary 
occasions of mediaeval kings. But the recollections of the war 
time with its abundant employment and high wages cling to 
many people, and are coupled with a confused notion that the 
more money there is in circulation so much the more of it will 
everybody have, so much the better off will he be, so much the 
more employment will capital find for labour, and so much the 
more copious will be the fertilizing stream of wages diffused 
among the poor. 1 

The Greenback party, which at first called itself Indepen- 
dent, held a national Nominating Convention in 1876, at which 
nineteen States were represented, and nominated candidates 
for president and vice-president, issuing an emphatic but un- 
grammatical denunciation of the financial policy of the Ee- 
publican and Democratic parties. They again put forward 

1 The matter is further complicated by the fact that the national bank-notes 
issued by the national banks are guaranteed by government bonds deposited 
with the U. S. treasury, bonds on which the national government pays interest. 
The Greenbackers desired to substitute greenbacks, or so-called " fiat money," 
for tbese bank-notes as a circulating medium. 



niAMM OBSERVATIONS OH THE PARTIES U 

candidates in L880 and 1SS-1, but made a poor show in the vot- 
ing in most States, and of OOUrse oauie nowhere within a meas- 
urable distance of carrying a state. 

The Labour party has oi late years practically Superseded 
the Greenbaekers, and seems to have now drawn to itself such 
adherents as that party retained. It is not easy to describe its 
precise tenets, for it includes persons of very various views, 
some who would be called in Europe pronounced socialists or 
communists, others who wish to restrain the action of railway 
and telegraph companies and other so-called " monopolists," 
and of course many who, while dissatisfied with existing eco- 
nomic conditions, and desiring to see the working classes receive 
a larger share of the good things of the world, are not prepared 
to say in what way these conditions can be mended and this 
result attained. Speaking generally, the reforms advocated by 
the leaders of the Labour party include the " nationalization of 
the land," the imposition of a progressive income tax, 1 the tak- 
ing over of railroads and telegraphs by the National government, 
the prevention of the immigration of Chinese and of any other 
foreign labourers who may come under contract, the restriction 
of all so-called monopolies, the forfeiture of railroad land grants, 
the increase of the currency, the free issue of inconvertible 
paper, and, above all, the statutory restriction of hours of 
labour. But it must not be supposed that all the leaders adopt 
all these tenets ; and the party is still too young to make it 
easy to say who are to be deemed its leaders. It shows a 
tendency to split up into factions. Its strength has lain in 
the trade unions of the operative class, and particularly in the 
enormous organization or league of trade unions known as the 
Knights of Labour : and it is therefore warmly interested in 
the administration of the various State laws which affect strikes 
and the practice of boycotting by which strikes often seek to 
] >revail. Besides the enrolled Knights, whose political strength 
is less feared now than it was some years ago, it has much support 
from the recent immigrants who fill the great cities, especially 
the Germans, Poles, Czechs and other Austro-Hungarian Slavs. 

1 This was demanded by the Greenback national convention in its platforms 
of 1880 and 1884, and by the Farmers' Alliance in 1890; but less than might be 
expected has been heard of it in America. Its adoption in the Canton of Valid 
in Switzerland caused some of the wealthier inhabitants to quit the canton. 



42 THE PARTY SYSTEM part hi 

The Labour party did not run a presidential candidate till 
1888, and was then divided, so that its strength could not be 
well estimated. But it has been wont to put forward candi- 
dates in State and city elections when it saw a chance. It ran 
Mr. Henry George for Mayor of New York City in 1886, and 
obtained the unexpected success of polling 67,000 votes against 
90,000 given to the regular Democratic, and 60,000 to the regu- 
lar Republican candidate ; l but this success was not sustained 
in the contest for the Secretaryship of the State of New York 
in 1887, when a vote of only 37,000 was cast by the Labour party 
in the city. In 1892 one section, calling itself the Socialist 
Labour Party, ran a presidential candidate, but obtained only 
21,164 votes, 17,956 of which came from New York, the rest 
from Pennsylvania, New Jersey, Massachusetts, and Connecti- 
cut. At present it is a somewhat incalculable force in State 
and local politics, nowhere strong enough to carry its own can- 
didates, but sometimes able to defeat one of the regular parties 
by drawing away a part of its voters, or to extort a share of the 
offices for some of its nominees. It is only in some States, 
chiefly Northern States, that Labour candidates are run at all. 

The Prohibitionists, or opponents of the sale of intoxicating 
liquors, have since 1872 regularly held a national convention 
for the nomination of a presidential candidate, and put out a 
ticket, i.e. nominated candidates for president and vice-presi- 
dent. The action of this party has been most frequent in the 
State legislatures, because the whole question of permitting, 
restricting, or abolishing the sale of intoxicants is a matter for 
the States and not for Congress. However, the Federal gov- 
ernment raises a large revenue by its high import duty on 
wines, spirits, and malt liquors, and also levies an internal 
excise. As this revenue was for some years before 1890 no 
longer needed for the expenses of the National government, it 
was proposed to distribute it among the States, or apply it 
to some new and useful purpose, or to reduce both customs 
duties and the excise. The fear of the first or second of these 
courses, which would give the manufacture and sale of in- 
toxicants a new lease of life, or of the third, which would 
greatly increase their consumption, was among the causes which 

1 In 1874 when a Labour candidate was first run for the New York mayoralty 
he obtained only between 3000 and 4000 votes. 



obap. i. vi OBSERVATIONS OH rilK PARTIES 48 

induced the Prohibitionists to enter the arena of national pol- 
; and they further justify their conduct in doing so by 
proposing to amend the Federal Constitution for the purposes 
of prohibition, and to stop the sale of intoxicants in the Terri- 
tories and in the District of Columbia, which are under the 
direct control of Congress. 1 Their running a candidate for the 
presidency is more a demonstration than anything else, as 
they have a comparatively weak vote to cast, many even of 
those who sympathize with them preferring to support one 
or other of the great parties rather than throw away a vote 
in the abstract assertion of a principle. One ought indeed 
to distinguish between the Prohibitionists proper, who wish 
to stop the sale of intoxicants altogether, and the Temperance 
men, who are very numerous among llepublicans in the North 
and Democrats in the South, and who, while ready to vote for 
Loeal Option and a High Licence Law, disapprove the attempt 
to impose absolute prohibition by general legislation. 2 The 

1 The Prohibitionist platform of 1884, issued by their national convention, 
contained the following passage: — 

" Congress should exercise its undoubted power and prohibit the manufact- 
ure and sale of intoxicating beverages in the District of Columbia, in the Ter- 
ritories of the United States, and in all places over which the Government has 
exclusive jurisdiction ; that hereafter no State shall be admitted to the Union 
until its Constitution shall expressly prohibit polygamy and the manufacture 
and sale of intoxicating beverages." In 1892 their platform ran thus: "The 
liquor traffic is a foe to civilization, the arch enemy of popular government, 
and a public nuisance. It is the citadel of the forces that corrupt politics, pro- 
mote poverty and crime, degrade the nation's home life, thwart the will of the 
people, and deliver our country into the hands of rapacious class interests. 
All laws that under the guise of regulation legalize and protect this traffic, or 
make the government share in its ill-gotten gains, are ' vicious in principle and 
powerless as a remedy.' We declare anew for the entire suppression of the 
manufacture, sale, importation, exportation, and transportation of alcoholic 
liquors as a beverage by Federal and State legislation, and the full powers of 
the government should be exerted to secure this result." 

One might have expected the Prohibitionists to advocate the repeal of the 
protective tariff on manufactured goods so as to make it necessary to main- 
tain customs duties and an excise on intoxicants for the purposes of the Na- 
tional government. But this would imply that these beverages might still be 
consumed, which is just what the more ardent spirits in the temperance party 
refuse to contemplate. In 1892 they said : " Tariff should be levied only as a 
defence against foreign governments which lay tariff upon or bar out our 
products from their markets, revenue being incidental." 

- Many State legislatures have " placated " the Temperance men by enacting 
that " the hygienics of alcohol and its action upon the human body " shall be 
a regular subject of instruction in the public schools. Whether this instruction 



44 THE PARTY SYSTEM part hi 

number of persons who are thorough-going Prohibitionists 
and pure Prohibitionists, that is to say, who are not also Ee- 
publicans or Democrats, is small, far too small, even when 
reinforced by a section of the " Temperance men," and by dis- 
contented Republicans or Democrats who may dislike the 
" regular " candidates of their party, to give the Prohibition 
ticket a chance of success in any State. The importance of 
the ticket lies in the fact that in a doubtful State it may draw 
away enough votes from one of the ' ( regular " candidates to 
leave him in a minority. Mr. Blaine probably suffered in this 
way in the election of 1884, most of the votes cast for the Pro- 
hibitionist candidate having come from quondam Republicans. 
On the other hand, a case may be imagined in which the exist- 
ence of an outlet or safety-valve, such as a Prohibitionist 
ticket, would prevent the " bolters " from one party from tak- 
ing the more dangerous course of voting for the candidate of 
the opposite party. 1 

The strength of the Prohibitionist party lies in the religious 
and moral earnestness which animates it and makes it for 
many purposes the successor and representative of the Aboli- 
tionists of forty years ago. Clergymen are prominent in its 
conventions, and women take an active part in its work. 
Partly from its traditions and temper, partly because it be- 
lieves that women would be on its side in elections, it advo- 
cates the extension to them of the electoral franchise. 

A spirit of discontent with the old parties, and vague wish 
to better by legislation the condition of the agriculturists, has 
caused the growth of what was called at first the Farmers' 
Alliance Party, but now the People's Party, or "Populists," 
which in 1889 and 1890 rose suddenly to importance in the 
West and South, and secured some seats from Western States 
in the Fifty-second and again in the Fifty-third Congress. Its 
platform agrees in several points with those of the Green- 
backers and Labour men, but instead of seeking to "nationalize " 
the land it desires to reduce the taxation on real estate and to 
secure (among other benefits) loans from the public treasury 

does more good or harm is a controverted point, as to which see the report for 
1890 of the U. S. Commissioner of Education. 

1 The Prohibitionist Convention of 1888 was attended by a good many per- 
sons desiring to form a new Third Party, of which the regulation of the liquor 
traffic should not he the only basis. 



i! \r. i vi 



OBSERVATIONS on THE PARTIES US 



to farmers at Low rates of interest. Its tenets and aims are, 
however, still too much in bhe stage of undefined aspiration 
and win.lv demagogism bo admit of being described with pre- 
cision; nor would it be sate to predict a long life for it in its 
present form, although it ran a candidate at the presidential 
election of 1892 (carrying four States and obtaining one elec- 
toral vote in each o\' two others), and although the economic 
and social conditions of agricultural life in America are likely 
from time to time to produce similar outbreaks of dissatisfac- 
tion, with impatient cries for unpractical remedies. 

The advocates of Woman's Suffrage cannot be reckoned a 
party, because women have no vote in presidential elections 
(save in Wyoming and Colorado), and because they do not run 
a presidential candidate. In 1884 a woman was nominated, 
but did not go to the poll. 1 

The European reader may perhaps wish to hear something 
as to the new group which goes by the name of Mugwumps. 2 
At the presidential election of 1884 a section of the Eepubli- 
can party, more important by the intelligence and social posi- 
tion of the men who composed it than by its voting power, 
u bolted " (to use the technical term) from their party, and re- 
fused to support Mr. Blaine. Some simply abstained, some, 
obeying the impulse to vote which is strong in good citizens 
in America, voted for Mr. St. John, the Prohibitionist candi- 
date, though well aware that this was practically the same 
thing as abstention. The majority, however, voted against 
their party for Mr. Cleveland, the Democratic candidate ; and 
it seems to have been the transference of their vote which 
turned the balance in New York State, and thereby deter- 
mined the issue of the whole election in Mr. Cleveland's 
favour. They were therefore not to be reckoned as a national 
party, according to the American use of the term, because they 
did not run a ticket of their own, but supported a candidate 
started by one of the regular parties. The only organization 
they formed consisted of committees which held meetings and 

1 See further as to women's suffrage, Chapter XCVI. 

2 The name is said to he formed from an Indian word denoting a chief or 
aged wise man, and was applied by the "straight-out" Republicans to their 
bolting brethren as a term of ridicule. II was then taken up by the latter as a 
term of compliment ; though the description they used formally in 1884 was 
that of "Independent Republicans." 



46 THE PARTY SYSTEM part in 

distributed literature during the election, but dissolved when 
it was over. They have maintained no permanent party ma- 
chinery; and did not act as a distinct section, even for the 
purposes of agitation, at the presidential elections of 1888 and 
1892. 1 So many of them have since been absorbed (especially 
in New England and Xew York) into the Democratic party 
that they cannot be now described as a section, but rather as a 
Tendency, or as persons in whom a strong and growing dispo- 
sition to independence becomes from time to time embodied. 

The Mugwumps bear no more resemblance to any British 
party than does any other of the parties of the United States, 
for the chief doctrine they advocate is one not in controversy 
in Britain, the necessity of reforming the civil service by 
making appointments without reference to party, and a gen- 
eral reform in the methods of politics by selecting men for 
Federal, State, and municipal offices, with reference rather to 
personal fitness than to political affiliations. They are most 
numerous in New England and in the cities of the Eastern 
States generally, but some few are scattered here and there all 
over the Xorth and West as far as California. It is, however, 
only in Xew York, Massachusetts, and Connecticut that they 
seem to have constituted an appreciably potent vote. In the 
South (save in such border cities as St. Louis and Louisville) 
there were none, because the Southern men who would, had 
they lived in the North, have taken to Mugwumpism, are in 
the South Democrats, and therefore voted for Mr. Cleveland 
anyhow in 1884, 1888, and 1892. Xor did there seem to be in 
the Democratic party, either in Xorth or South, as much mate- 
rial for a secession similar to that of the " bolters " of 1884 as 
was then shown to exist among the Republicans. In 1893, 
however, an enormous "swing-over " in New York State of votes 
usually Democratic to the Republican side, provoked by the 
nomination of a man deemed tainted to an important judicial 
office, showed that the Mugwump element or tendency was to 
be reckoned with, at least in the Xorth-eastern States, by both 
parties alike. 

The reader must be reminded of one capital difference be- 

1 In 18S8 some voted for Mr. Harrison, some, and especially those inclined 
to free trade, for Mr. Cleveland. In 1892 even those who had not formally 
joined the Democrats seem to have voted on that side. 



chap, lti OBSERVATIONS ON THE PARTIES 47 



tween the Republican and Democratic parties and the minor 
ones which have just been mentioned. The two former are abso- 
lutely co-extensive with the Union. They exist in every State, 
ami in every corner of every State. They exist even in the 
four Territories, though the inhabitants of Territories have 
no vote in Federal elections. But the Labour party and the 
Prohibition party, although each maintains a more or less per- 
manent organization in many States, do not attempt to do so 
in all States. 1 much less to fight all the elections in those 
States. The " People's Party/' while for the moment strong 
in the West, has no importance in the Atlantic States, though 
the tt Farmers' Alliance " men developed strength in 1890 in 
State elections in parts of the South, especially in South Caro- 
lina. Where these minor parties are strong, or where some 
question has arisen -which keenly interests them, they will run 
their man for State governor or mayor, or will put out a ticket 
for State senators or Assembly men : or they will take the 
often more profitable course of fusing for the nonce with one 
of the regular parties, giving it their vote in return for having 
the party nominations to one or more of the elective offices 
assigned to their own nominee. 2 This helps to keep a minor 
party going, and gives to its vote a practical result otherwise 
unattainable. 

Is there not then, some European may ask, a Free Trade 
party ? Not in the American sense of the word " party." Free 
trade views are professed by most Democrats, especially in the 
South and West (though rather in the practical form of the ad- 
vocacy of a reduced tariff than in that of the general doctrine as 
it was preached by Cobden) and by some few Kepublicans whose 

1 In the election of 1880, votes were given for the Greenback candidate in 
all the States but three (308,578 votes in all), and for the Prohibitionist in 
seventeen States out of the thirty-eight (10,305 votes in all). In 1884 votes 
were given for the Greenback candidate in twenty-nine States, and for the Pro- 
hibitionist in thirty-three States. In 1888 there was some scattering, and the 
Labour party was divided. In 1892 the " People's Party " candidate received 
votes in every State, the Prohibitionist in forty-one, the " Socialist Labour " 
in five States. 

2 The Labour men have done this pretty frequently, the Prohibitionists 
scarcely ever. In 1892 the so-called " Populists" and the Democrats " fused " 
in six States, the latter voting for the Presidential candidate of the former, 
with the result that the People's Party carried four of these States. In Louisi- 
ana a somewhat similar arrangement was made between the " People's Party " 
and the Republicans; but the Democrats carried the State notwithstanding. 



48 THE PARTY SYSTEM part hi 



importance is due not to their numbers, but to the influence they 
exert as writers or teachers. But Kepublican Free Traders, 
being largely Mugwumps, have now latterly tended to drift into 
the Democratic party. There is a society which seeks to edu- 
cate opinion by publishing books and pamphlets on the subject ; 
but it is no more a political force than the similar society in 
France or the Cobden Club in England. There is no political 
organization which agitates for free trade by the usual party 
methods, much less does any one think of starting candidates 
either for the Presidency or for Congress upon a pure anti-pro- 
tectionist platform, 1 although the election of 1888, and still 
more that of 1892, largely turned upon this particular issue, which 
the so-called McKinley Tariff Act of 1890 had made prominent. 

Why, considering the reluctant hesitancy of the old parties 
in dealing with new questions, and considering also that in the 
immense area of the United States, with its endless variety of 
economic interests and social conditions, we might expect local 
diversities of aim and view which would crystallize, and so give 
rise to many local parties — why are not the parties far more 
numerous ? Why, too, are the parties so persistent ? In this 
changeful country one would look for frequent changes in 
tenets and methods. 

One reason is, that there is at present a strong feeling in 
America against any sentiment or organization which relies on 
or appeals to one particular region of the country. Such 
localism or sectionalism is hateful, because, recalling the 
clisunionist spirit of the South which led to the war, it seems 
anti-national and unpatriotic. By the mere fact of its spring- 
ing from a local root, and urging a local interest, a party would 
set all the rest of the country against it. As a separately 
organized faction seeking to capture the Federal government, 
it could not succeed against the national parties, because the 
Union as a whole is so vast that it would be outvoted by one 
or other of them. But if it is content to remain a mere 
opinion or demand, not attacking either national part}>, but 
willing to bestow the votes it can control on whichever will 
meet its wishes, it is powerful, because the two great parties 

1 It would be absurd to run candidates for State office or municipal office on 
such a platform, inasmuch as the tariff is a matter purely for the national 
legislature. 



chap, im OBSERVATIONS ON THE PARTIES 40 



will bid against one another for its support by flatteries and 
concessions. For instance, the question which interests the 
masses on the Pacific coast is that of excluding Chinese 
immigrants, because they compete for work with the whites 
and bring down wages. Now it' the ''anti-Mongolians" of 
California, Nevada, and Oregon were to create a national party, 
based on this particular issue, they would be insignificant, for 
they would have little support over five-sixths of the Union. 
But by showing that the attitude of the two great parties on 
this issue will determine their own attitude towards these 
parties, they control both, for as each desires to secure the 
vote of California, Nevada, and Oregon, each vies with the 
other in promising and voting for anti-Chinese legislation. 
The position of the Irish extremists has been similar, except of 
course that they are a racial and not a geographical " section." 
Their power, which Congress has sometimes recognized in a 
way scarcely compatible with its dignity or with international 
courtesy, lies in the fact that as the Republicans and Demo- 
crats are nearly balanced, the congressional leaders of both 
desire to "placate" this faction, for which neither has a 
sincere affection. An Irish party, or a German party, or a 
Roman Catholic party, which should run its candidates on 
a sectional platform, would stand self-condemned in American 
eyes as not being genuinely American. But so long as it is 
content to seek control over parties and candidates, it exerts 
an influence out of proportion to its numbers, and checked only 
by the fear that if it demanded too much native Americans 
might rebel, as they did in the famous Know-nothing or 
" American " party of 1853-58. The same fate would befall a 
party based upon some trade interest, such as protection to 
a particular sort of manufactures, or the stimulation of cattle- 
breeding, or on the defence of the claims of the New England 
fishermen. Such a party might succeed for a time in a State, 
and might dictate its terms to one or both of the national par- 
ties ; but when it attempted to be a national party it would 
become ridiculous and fall. 

A second cause of the phenomenon which I am endeavour- 
ing to explain may be found in the enormous trouble and 
expense required to found a new national party. To influence 
the votes, even to reach the ears of a population of sixty-six 

VOL. II E 



50 THE PARTY SYSTEM part hi 

millions of people, is an undertaking to be entered on only 
when some really great cause fires the national imagination, 
disposes the people to listen, persuades the wealthy to spend 
freely of their substance. It took six years of intense work to 
build up the Republican party, which might not even then 
have triumphed in the election of 1860, but for the split in the 
ranks of its opponents. The attempt made in 1872 to form 
a new independent party out of the discontented Republicans 
and the Democrats failed lamentably. The Independent Re- 
publicans of 1884 did not venture to start a programme or 
candidate of their own, but were prudently satisfied with 
helping the Democratic candidate, whom they deemed more 
likely than the Republican nominee to give effect to the doc- 
trine of civil service reform which they advocate. 

The case of these Independents, or Mugwumps, is an illustra- 
tive one. For many years past there had been complaints 
that the two old parties were failing to deal with issues now 
of capital importance, such as the tariff, the currency, the 
improvement of methods of business in Congress, the purifica- 
tion of the civil service and extinction of the so-called Spoils 
system. These complaints, however, came not from the men 
prominent as practical statesmen or politicians in the parties, 
but from outsiders, and largely from the men of intellectual 
cultivation and comparatively high social standing. Very few 
of these men take an active part in " politics," however 
interested they may be in public affairs. They are amateurs 
as regards the practical work of "running" ward meetings and 
conventions, of framing "tickets," and bringing up voters to 
the poll, in fact of working as well as organizing that vast and 
complicated machinery which an American party needs. Be- 
sides, it is a costly machinery, and they might be unable to 
find the money. Hence they recoil from the effort, and aim at 
creating a sentiment which may take concrete form in a vote, 
given for whichever of the parties seems at any particular 
time most likely to adopt, even if insincerely, the principles, 
and give effect, even if reluctantly, to the measures which the 
Independents advocate. 

Why, however, does it so seldom happen that the profes- 
sional politicians, who " know the ropes," and know where to 
get the necessary funds, seek to wreck a party in order to found 



chap, lvi OBSERVATIONS <>N THB PARTIES 51 

a new one more to their mind? Because they are pretty well 
satisfied with the sphere which existing parties give them, 
and comprehend from their practical experience how hazardous 
such an experiment would be. 

These considerations may help to explain the remarkable 
cohesion of parties in America, and the strength of party 
loyalty, a phenomenon more natural in Europe, where momen- 
tous issues inflame men's passions, and where the bulk of the 
adherents are ignorant men. caught by watchwords and readily 
attracted to a leader, than in a republic where no party has 
any benefit to promise to the people which it may not as well 
get from the other, and where the native voter is a keen-witted 
man, with little reverence for the authority of any individual. 
There is however another reason flowing from the character of 
the American people. They are extremely fond of associating 
themselves, and prone to cling to any organization they have 
once joined. They are sensitive to any charge of disloyalty. 
They are gregarious, each man more disposed to go with the 
multitude and do as they do than to take a line of his own, 1 
and they enjoy "campaigning" for its own sake. These are 
characteristics which themselves require to be accounted for, 
but the discussion of them belongs to later chapters. A 
European is surprised to see prominent politicians supporting, 
sometimes effusively, a candidate of their own party whom 
they are known to dislike, merely because he is the party 
candidate. There is a sort of military discipline about party 
life which has its good as well as its bad side, for if it some- 
times checks the expression of honest disapproval, it also 
restrains jealousy, abashes self-seeking, prevents recrimination. 

Each of the American parties is far less under the control of 
one or two conspicuous leaders than are European parties. So 
far as this is due to the absence of men whose power over the 
people rests on the possession of brilliant oratorical or adminis- 
trative gifts, it is a part of the question why there are not 
more such men in American public life, why there are fewer 
striking figures than in the days of Jefferson and Hamilton, of 
Webster and Calhoun. It is however also due to the pecul- 

1 That is to say. they respect tho authority of the mass, to which they them- 
belong, tbongh seldom that of individual leaders. See 2'>°st, Chapter 
LXXXV. — • Flic Fatalism of the Multitude." 



52 THE PARTY SYSTEM part hi 

iarities of the Constitution. The want of concentration of 
power in the legal government is reflected in the structure of 
the party system. The separation of the legislative from the 
executive department lowers the importance of leadership in 
parties, as it weakens both these departments. The President, 
who is presumably among the leading men, cannot properly 
direct the policy of his party, still less speak for it in public, 
because he represents the whole nation. His ministers cannot 
speak to the people through Congress. In neither House of 
Congress is there necessarily any person recognized as the 
leader on either side. As neither House has the power over 
legislation and administration possessed by such an assembly 
as the French or Italian Chamber, or the English House of 
Commons, speeches delivered or strategy displayed in it do not 
tell upon the country with equal force and directness. There 
remains the stump, and it is more by the stump than in any 
other way that an American statesman speaks to the people. 
But what distances to be traversed, what fatigues to be encoun- 
tered before he can be a living and attractive personality to the 
electing masses ! An English statesman leaves London at two 
o'clock, and speaks in Birmingham, or Leeds, or Manchester, 
the same evening. In a few years, every great town knows 
him like its own mayor, while the active local politicians who 
frequently run up from their homes to London hear him 
from the galleries of the House of Commons, wait on him in 
deputations, are invited to the receptions which his wife gives 
during the season. Even railways and telegraphs cannot make 
America a compact country in the same sense that Britain is. 

Since the Civil War ended, neither Republicans nor Demo- 
crats have leaned on and followed any one man as Mr. Gladstone 
and Lord Beaconsneld, as before them Lords Derby, John 
Russell, and Palmerston, as still earlier Sir Robert Peel and 
Lord Melbourne, were followed in England. Xo one since Mr. 
Seward has exercised even so much authority as Mr. Bright did 
when out of office, or as Gambetta did in France, or Mr. Parnell 
in Ireland, over the sections of opinion which each of these 
eminent men represented. 

How then are the parties led in Congress and the country ? 
"Who directs their policy ? Who selects their candidates for 
the most important posts ? These are questions which cannot 



chap, lvi OBSERVATIONS ON THE PARTIES 



be adequately answered till bhe nature of the party machinery 
has been described. For the moment 1 must be content to sug- 
gest the following as provisional answers: — 
The chief thing is the seleotion of candidates. This is done 

in party meetings called conventions. When a party has a 
policy, it is settled in a convention and declared in a docu- 
ment called a platform. When it has none, the platform is 
issued none the less. Tarty tactics in Congress are decided 
on by meetings of the party in each House of Congress called, 
caucuses. Leaders have of course much to do with all three 
processes. But they often efface themselves out of respect to 
the sentiment of equality, and because power concealed excites 
less envy. 

How do the parties affect social life ? At present not very 
much, at least in the northern and middle States, because it is a 
comparatively slack time in politics. Your dining acquain- 
tances, even your intimate friends, are not necessarily of the 
same way of voting as yourself, and though of course political 
views tend to become hereditary, there is nothing to surprise 
any one in rinding sons belonging to different parties from their 
fathers. Social boycotting on political grounds, such as largely 
prevails in rural England, is unknown. In the South, where 
the recollections of the great struggle are kept alive by the 
presence of a negro voting power which has to be controlled, 
things are different : and they were different in the North till 
the passions of civil strife had abated. 

So far, I have spoken of the parties only as national organiza- 
tions, struggling for and acting on or through the Federal 
government. But it has already been observed (Chapter 
XL VI.) that they exist also as State and city organizations, 
contending for the places which States and cities have to give, 
seeking to control State legislatures and municipal councils. 
Every circumscription of State and local government, from the 
State of Xew York with its six millions of inhabitants down to 
the "city" that has just sprung up round a railway junction in 
the West, has a regular Republican party organization, con- 
fronted by a similar Democratic organization, each running its 
own ticket (i.e. list of candidates) at every election, for any 
office pertaining to its own circumscription, and each federated, 
so to speak, to the larger organizations above it, represented in 



54 THE PARTY SYSTEM part hi 

them and working for them in drilling and "energizing" the 
party within the area which is the sphere of its action. 

What have the tenets of such national parties as the Repub- 
licans and Democrats to do with the politics of States and 
cities? Very little with those of States, because a matter for 
Federal legislation is seldom also a matter for State legislation. 
Still less with those of cities or counties. Cities and counties 
have not strictly speaking any political questions to deal with ; 
their business is to pave and light, to keep the streets clean, 
maintain an efficient police and well-barred prisons, administer 
the poor law and charitable institutions with integrity, judg- 
ment, and economy. The laws regulating these matters have 
been already made by the State, and the city or county authority 
has nothing to do but administer them. Hence at city and 
county elections the main objects ought to be to choose honest 
and careful men of business. It need make no difference to the 
action of a mayor or school trustee in any concrete question 
whether he holds Democratic or Republican views. 

However, the habit of party warfare has been so strong as 
to draw all elections into its vortex; nor would either party 
feel safe if it neglected the means of rallying and drilling its 
supporters, which State and local contests supply. There is 
this advantage in the system, that it stimulates the political 
interest of the people, which is kept alive by this perpetual 
agitation. But the multiplicity of contests has the effect of 
making politics too absorbing an occupation for the ordinary 
citizen who has his profession or business to attend to; while 
the result claimed by those who in England defend the practice 
of fighting municipal elections on party lines, viz. that good 
men are induced to stand for local office for the sake of their 
party, is the last result desired by the politicians, or expected 
by any one. It is this constant labour which the business of 
politics involves, this ramification of party into all the nooks 
and corners of local government, that has produced the class 
of professional politicians, of whom it is now time to speak. 



CHAPTER LVII 

THE POLITICIANS 

Institutions are said to form men, but it is no less true that 
men give to institutions their colour and tendency. It profits 
little to know the legal rules and methods and observances ol' 
government, unless one also knows something of the human 
beings who tend and direct this machinery, and who, by the 
spirit in which they work it, may render it the potent instrument 
ol' good or evil to the people. These men are the politicians. 

What is one to include under this term? In England it 
usually denotes those who are actively occupied in adminis- 
tering or legislating, or . discussing administration and leg 
islation. That is to say, it includes ministers of the Crown, 
members of Parliament (though some in the House of Com- 
mons and the majority in the House of Lords care little 
about politics), a few leading journalists, and a small number 
of miscellaneous persons, writers, lecturers, organizers, agita- 
tors, who occupy themselves with trying to influence the public. 
Sometimes the term is given a wider sweep, being taken to 
include all who labour for their political party in the constitu- 
encies, as e.g. the chairmen and secretaries of local party 
associations, and the more active committee men of the same 
bodies. 1 The former, whom we may call the Inner Circle 
men, are professional politicians in this sense, and in this sense 
only, that politics is the main though seldom the sole business 
of their lives. But at present extremely few of them make any- 
thing by it in the way of money. A handful hoj^e to get some 
post; a somewhat larger number conceive that a seat in Parlia- 
ment may enable them to push their financial undertakings or 

1 In America (Canada as well as the United States) people do not say 
"politicians," but "the politicians," because the word indicates a lass with 
certain defined characteristics. 



5G THE PARTY SYSTEM part hi 

make them at least more conspicuous in the commercial Avorld. 
But the gaining of a livelihood does not come into the view of 
the great majority at all. The other class, who may be called 
the Outer Circle, are not professionals in any sense, being pri- 
marily occupied with their own avocations ; and none of them, 
except here and there an organizing secretary, paid lecturer, 
or registration agent, makes any profit out of the work. 1 The 
phenomena of France and Italy and Germany are generally 
similar, that is to say, those who devote their whole time to 
politics are a very small class, those who make a living by it 
an even smaller one. 2 Of all the countries of Europe, Greece 
is that in which persons who spend their life in politics seem 
to bear the largest proportion to the whole population ; and in 
Greece the pursuit of politics is usually the pursuit of place. 

To see why things are different in the United States, why 
the Inner Circle is much larger both absolutely and relatively 
to the Outer Circle than in Europe, let us go back a little and 
ask what are the conditions which develop a political class. 
The point has so important a bearing on the characteristics of 
American politicians that I do not fear to dwell somewhat fully 
upon it. 

In self-governing communities of the simpler kind — for one 
may leave absolute monarchies and feudal monarchies on one 
side — the common affairs are everybody's business and no- 
body's special business. Some few men by their personal quali- 
ties get a larger share of authority, and are repeatedly chosen 
to be archons, or generals, or consuls, or burgomasters, or lan- 
dammans, but even these rarely give their whole time to the 
State, and make little or nothing in money out of it. This 
was the condition of the Greek republics, of early Rome, 3 of 

1 Of course now and then a man who has worked hard for his party is 
rewarded hy a place. Barristers who have spent their substance in contesting 
seats have a better chance of judgeships, and there are usually five or six 
practising counsel in the House of Commons who are supposed to contemplate 
the possibility of obtaining legal office. But these cases are so few as to make 
no practical difference. 

2 The number of persons who live off politics by getting places or by 
manipulating finance is said to have increased in France of late years. But 
it cannot be very large even now. 

3 The principal business in life of Cincinnatus was to till his fields, and a 
dictatorship a mere interlude. When I waited on the president of the Repub- 
lic of Andorra, one of the oldest states in Europe, twenty years ago, I found 
him with his coat off wielding a flail on the floor of his barn. 



ohap. lvii Till-: POLITICIANS 57 



the cities of mediaeval Germany and Italy, of the cantons of 
Switzerland till very recent times. 

When in a large country public affairs become more engrossing 
to those who are occupied in them, when the sphere of govern- 
ment widens, when administration is more complex and more 
closely interlaced with the industrial interests of the community 
and of the world at large, so that there is more to be known and 
to be considered, the business of a nation falls into the hands of 
the men eminent by rank, wealth, and ability, who form a sort 
of governing class, largely hereditary. The higher civil admin- 
istration of the state is in their hands ; they fill the chief council 
or legislative chamber and conduct its debates. They have resi- 
dences in the capital, and though they receive salaries when 
actually rilling an office, and have opportunities for enriching 
themselves, the majority possess independent means, and pur- 
sue politics for the sake of fame, power, or excitement. Those 
few who have not independent means can follow their business 
or profession in the capital, or can frequently visit the place 
where their business is carried on. This was the condition of 
Rome under the later republic, 1 and of England and France till 
quite lately — indeed it is largely the case in England still — 
as well as of Prussia and Sweden. 2 

Let us see what are the conditions of the United States. 

There is a relatively small leisured class of persons engaged 
in no occupation and of wealth sufficient to leave them free for 
public affairs. So far as such persons are to be found in. the 
country, for some are to be sought abroad, they are to be found 
in a few great cities. 

There is no class with a hereditary prescription to public 
office, no great families whose names are known to the people, 
and who, bound together by class sympathy and ties of relation- 
ship, help one another by keeping offices in the hands of their 
own members. 

1 Rome in the later days of the republic had practically become a country, 
that is to say, the range of her authority and the mass of her public business 
were much greater than in any of the Greek cities, even in Athens in the days 
of Pericles. The chances of making illicit gains were great, but confined to 
a small number of persons. 

2 Norway, the most democratic of the monarchical countries of Europe, is 
the one which has probably the smallest class of persons continuously occupied 
with politics. 



G8 THE PARTY SYSTEM part hi 

The country is a very large one, and has its political capital 
in a city without trade, without manufactures, without profes- 
sional careers. Even the seats of State governments are often 
placed in comparatively small towns. 1 Hence a man cannot 
carry on his gainful occupation at the same time that he attends 
to " Inner Circle " politics. 

Members of Congress and of State legislatures are invariably 
chosen from the places where they reside. Hence a person 
belonging to the leisured class of a great city cannot get into 
the House of Representatives or the legislature of his State 
except as member for a district of his own city. 

The shortness of terms of office, and the large number of 
offices filled by election, make elections very frequent. All 
these elections, with trifling exceptions, are fought on party 
lines, and the result of a minor one for some petty local office, 
such as county treasurer, affects one for a more important post, 
e.g. that of member of Congress. Hence constant vigilance, 
constant exertions on the spot, are needed. The list of voters 
must be incessantly looked after, newly-admitted or newly- 
settled citizens enrolled, the active local men frequently con- 
sulted and kept in good humour, meetings arranged for, tickets 
(i.e. lists of candidates) for all vacant offices agreed upon. One 
election is no sooner over than another approaches and has to 
be provided for, as the English sporting man reckons his year 
by "events," and thinks of Newmarket after Ascot, and of 
Goodwood after Newmarket. 

Now what do these conditions amount to? To this — A great 
deal of hard and dull election and other local political work to 
be done. Few men of leisure to do it, and still fewer men of 
leisure likely to care for it. Nobody able to do it in addition 
to his regular business or profession. Little motive for anybody, 
whether leisured or not, to do the humbler and local parts of it 
(i.e. so much as concerns the minor elections), the parts which 
bring neither fame nor power. 

If the work is to be done at all, some inducement, other than 
fame or power, must clearly be found. Why not, some one will 

1 E.g. The seat of government for Maryland is Annapolis, not Baltimore ; 
for Ohio, Columbus, not Cincinnati; for Illinois, Springfield, not Chicago; for 
California, Sacramento, not San Francisco ; for Washington, Olympia, not 
Seattle or Tacoma; for Louisiana, Baton Rouge, not New Orleans. 



i uw. lvii THE POLITICIANS 59 

say, the sense of public duty? I will speak of public, duty 
presently: meantime Let it suffice to remark that to rely on 
public duty as the main motive power in politics is to assume 
a commonwealth of angels. Men such as we know them must 
have some other inducement. Even in the Christian Church 
there are other than spiritual motives to lead its pastors to 
spiritual work; nor do all poets write because they seek to 
express the passion of their souls. In America we discover 
a palpable inducement to undertake the dull and toilsome work 
of election politics. It is the inducement of places in the public 
service. To make them attractive they must be paid. They 
are paid, nearly all of them, memberships of Congress * and 
other Federal places, State places (including memberships of 
State legislatures), city and county places. Here then is the 
inducement, the remuneration for political work performed in 
the way of organizing and electioneering. Now add that besides 
the paid administrative and legislative places which a democ- 
racy bestows by election, judicial places are also in most of the 
States elective, and held for terms of years only; and add 
further, that the holders of nearly all those administrative 
places, Federal, State, and municipal, which are not held for a 
fixed term, are liable to be dismissed, and have been hitherto in 
practice dismissed, whenever power changes from one party to 
another, a so that those who belong to the party out of office have 
a direct chance of office when their party comes in. The 
inducement to undertake political work we have been searching 
for is at once seen to be adequate, and only too adequate. The 
men for the work are certain to appear because remuneration is 
provided. Politics has now become a gainful profession, like 
advocacy, stockbroking, the dry goods trade, or the getting up 
of companies. People go into it to live by it, primarily for the 
sake of the salaries attached to the places they count on getting, 
secondarily in view of the opportunities it affords of making- 
incidental and sometimes illegitimate gains. Every person in a 

1 Though, as observed in a previous chapter, the paymeut of members of 
Congress does not seem to have any marked effect in lowering the type of 
members. It is the offices rather than legislative posts that sustain the pro- 
fessional class. 

2 This was the practice up to within the last few years. It has been modi- 
lied lately in consequence of the progress of the civil service reform movement. 
There are now 27,000 postmasters within the civil service rules. 



60 THE PARTY SYSTEM part hi 

high administrative post, whether Federal, State, or municipal, 
and, above all, every member of Congress, has opportunities of 
rendering services to wealthy individuals and companies for 
which they are willing to pay secretly in money or in money's 
worth. The better officials and legislators — they are the great 
majority, except in large cities — resist the temptation. The 
worst succumb to it; and the prospect of these illicit profits 
renders a political career distinctly more attractive to an 
unscrupulous man. 

We find therefore that in America all the conditions exist for 
producing a class of men specially devoted to political work and 
making a livelihood by it. It is work much of which cannot 
be done in combination with any other kind of regular work, 
whether professional or commercial. Even if the man who 
unites wealth and leisure to high intellectual attainments were 
a frequent figure in America, he would not take to this work; 
he would rather be a philanthropist or cultivate arts and letters. 
It is work which, steadily pursued by an active man, offers an 
income. Hence a large number of persons are drawn into it, 
and make it the business of their life ; and the fact that they 
are there as professionals has tended to keep amateurs out of it. 

There are, however, two qualifications which nmst be added 
to this statement of the facts, and which it is best to add at 
once. One is that the mere pleasure of politics counts for 
something. Many people in America as well as in England 
undertake even the commonplace work of local canvassing and 
organizing for the sake of a little excitement, a little of the 
agreeable sense of self-importance, or from that fondness for 
doing something in association with others which makes a man 
become secretary to a cricket club or treasurer of a fund raised 
by subscription for some purpose he may not really care for. 
And the second qualification is that pecuniary motives operate 
with less force in rural districts than in cities, because in the 
former the income obtainable by public office is too small to 
induce men to work long in the hope of getting it. Let it 
therefore be understood that what is said in this chapter refers 
primarily to cities, and of course also to persons aiming at the 
higher Federal and State offices ; and that I do not mean to deny 
that there is plenty of work done by amateurs as well as by 
professionals. 



chap, ivn THE POLITICIANS 61 

Having thus seen what are the causes which produce profes- 
sional politicians, we may return to inquire how large this class 
is. compared with the corresponding class in the tree countries 
of Europe, whom we have called the Inner Circle. 

In America the Inner Circle, that is to say, the persons who 
make political work the chief business of life, for the time 
being, includes: — 

First. All members o{' both Houses of Congress. 

Secondly. All Federal office-holders except the judges, who 
are irremovable, and the " classified civil service." 

Thirdly. A large part of the members of State legislatures. 
How large a part, it is impossible to determine, for it varies 
greatly from State to State. I should guess that in New York, 
Pennsylvania, New Jersey, California, Maryland, and Louisi- 
ana, half the members were professional politicians; in Ohio, 
Virginia, Illinois, Texas, less than half; in Connecticut, Geor- 
gia. Kentucky, Iowa, Oregon, not more than one-fourth; in Mas- 
sachusetts. Vermont, and some other States, perhaps even less. 
But the line between a professional and non-professional politi- 
cian is too indefinite to make any satisfactory estimate possible. 

Fourthly. Nearly all State office-holders, excluding all judges 
in a very few States, and many of the judges in the rest. 

Fifthly. Nearly all holders of paid offices in the greater and 
in many of the smaller cities, and many holders of paid offices 
in the counties. There are, however, great differences in this 
respect between different States, the New England States and 
the newer States of the North-west, as well as some Southern 
States, choosing many of their county officials from men who 
are not regularly employed on politics, although members of 
the dominant party. 

Sixthly. A large number of people who hold no office but 
want to get one. This category includes, of course, many of 
the " workers " of the party which does not command the 
majority for the time being, in State and municipal affairs, and 
which has not, through the President, the patronage of Eederal 
posts. It also includes many expectants belonging to the part}' 
for the time being dominant, who are earning their future places 
by serving the party in the meantime. 1 

1 But, as already observed, there are also in the rural districts and smaller 
towns many workers and expectants who do not look for places. 



62 THE PARTY SYSTEM part in 

All the above may fairly be called professional or Inner 
Circle politicians, but of their number I can form no estimate, 
save that it must be counted by hundreds of thousands, inas- 
much as it practically includes nearly all State and local and 
most Federal office-holders as well as most expectants of pub- 
lic office. 1 

It must be remembered that the " work " of politics means in 
America the business of winning nominations (of which more 
anon) and elections, and that this work is incomparably heavier 
and more complex than in England, because : — 

(1) The voters are a larger proportion of the ' population ; 
(2) The government is more complex (Federal, State, and local) 
and the places filled by election are therefore far more numer- 
ous; (3) Elections come at shorter intervals; (4) The ma- 
chinery of nominating candidates is far more complete and 
intricate; (5) The methods of fighting elections require more 
technical knowledge and skill; (6) Ordinary private citizens 
do less election work, seeing that they are busier than in Eng- 
land, and the professionals exist to do it for them. 

I have observed that there are also plenty of men engaged in 
some trade or profession who interest themselves in politics and 

1 The Inner Circle may in England be roughly taken to include : — 

Members of the House of Lords, say 80 

Members of the House of Commons 670 

Editors, and chief writers on leading newspapers, saj r 300 

Expectant candidates for House of Commons, say . . 450 
Persons who in each constituency devote most of their time 
to politics, e.g. secretaries of political associations, 

registration agents, etc., say 2000 

3500 

Comparatively few newspapers are primarily political, and in many con- 
stituencies (e.g. Irish and Highland counties) there are very few persons 
occupied in political work. I do not, therefore, think this estimate too low. 

In the United States there are now about 130,000 Federal offices. Allowing 
one expectant for each office (a small allowance) , and assuming the State and 
local offices bestowed as the reward for political services to be equal in num- 
ber to Federal offices (they are, of course, far more numerous), and allowing 
one expectant to each such office, we should have a total of over 120,000 x 4 = 
480,000. Deducting from this total those who hold or aspire to Federal offices 
which have been "taken out of politics," those who, though they work for 
office, do not make such work their main business, and those who work with 
no special eye to office, we should still have a very large total, doubtless over 
200,000, of persons whose chief occupation and livelihood lies in politics. 



chap, i vn THE POLITICIANS 63 

work for their party withoul any definite hope of office or other 
pecuniary aim. They correspond to what we have called the 
Outer Circle politicians of Europe. It is hard to draw a Line 
between the two classes, because they shade off into one 
another, there being many farmers or lawyers or saloon- 
keepers, for instance, who, while pursuing their regular call- 
ing, bear a hand in politics, and. look to be some time or 
other rewarded for doing so. When this expectation becomes 
a considerable part of the motive for exertion, such an one 
may fairly be called a, professional, at least for the time being, 
for although he has other means of livelihood, he is apt to be 
impregnated with the habits and sentiments of the professional 
class. 

The proportion between Outer Circle and Inner Circle men 
is in the United States a sort of ozonometer by which the purity 
and healthiness of the political atmosphere may be tested. 
Looking at the North only, for it is hard to obtain trustworthy 
•lata as to the South, and excluding congressmen, the proportion 
of men who exert themselves in politics without pecuniary 
motive is largest in New England, in the country parts of New 
York, in Northern Ohio, and the North-western States, while 
the professional politicians most abound in the great cities — 
New York, Philadelphia, Brooklyn, Boston, Baltimore, Buf- 
falo, Cincinnati, Louisville, Chicago, St. Louis, New Orleans, 
San Francisco. This is because these cities have the largest 
masses of ignorant voters, and also because their municipal 
governments, handling vast revenues, offer the largest facili- 
ties for illicit gains. 

I shall presently return to the Outer Circle men. Meantime 
let us examine the professionals somewhat more closely; and 
begin with those of the humbler type, whose eye is fixed on 
a municipal or other local office, and seldom ranges so high as 
a seat in Congress. 

As there are weeds that follow human dwellings, so this 
species thrives best in cities, and even in the most crowded 
parts of cities. It is known to the Americans as the "ward 
politician," because the city ward is the chief sphere of its 
activity, and the ward meeting the first scene of its exploits. 
A statesman of this type usually begins as ;i saloon or bar- 
keeper, an occupation winch enables him to form a large circle 



64 THE PARTY SYSTEM part hi 

of acquaintances, especially among the "loafer" class who 
have votes but no reason for using them one way more than 
another, and whose interest in political issues is therefore as 
limited as their stock of political knowledge. But he may 
have started as a lawyer of the lowest kind, or lodging-house 
keeper, or have taken to politics after failure in store-keeping. 
The education of this class is only that of the elementary 
schools : if they have come after boyhood from Europe, it is 
not even that. They have of course no comprehension of 
political questions or zeal for political principles; politics 
mean to them merely a scramble for places or jobs. They are 
usually vulgar, sometimes brutal, not so often criminal, or at 
least the associates of criminals. They it is who move about 
the populous quarters of the great cities, form groups through 
whom they can reach and control the ignorant voter, pack 
meetings with their creatures. 

Their methods and their triumphs must be reserved for a 
later chapter. Those of them who are Irish, an appreciable 
proportion in great cities, have seldom Irish patriotism to 
redeem the mercenary quality of their politics. They are too 
strictly practical for that, being regardful of the wrongs of 
Ireland only so far as these furnish capital to be used with 
Irish voters. Their most conspicuous virtues are shrewdness, 
a sort of rough good-fellowship with one another, and loy- 
alty to their chiefs, from whom they expect promotion in the 
ranks of the service. The plant thrives in the soil of any 
party, but its growth is more vigorous in whichever party is 
for the time dominant in a given city. 

English critics, taking their cue from American pessimists, 
have often described these men as specimens of the whole class 
of politicians. This is misleading. The men are bad enough 
both as an actual force and as a symptom. But they are con- 
fined to a few great cities, those eleven or twelve I have 
already mentioned ; it is their achievements there, and particu- 
larly in New York, where the mass of ignorant immigrants is 
largest, that have made them famous. 

In the smaller cities, and in the country generally, the minor 
politicians are mostly native Americans, less ignorant and more 
respectable than these last-mentioned street vultures. The 
bar-keeping element is represented among them, but the bulk 



OHAF. LTD THE l'Ol.iriClA 

tty lawyers, officials, Federal as well as State and count}-, 
and people who for want of a better occupation have turned 
office- with a fair sprinkling of store-keepers, formers, 

and i. r men. The great majority have some regular 

bhey are by no means wholly professionals. 
the business which best tits in with politics. 
are only a little below the level of*the class to which the;, 
belong, which is what would be called in England the lower 
middle, or in France the petite bourgeoisie, and they often sup- 
vhemselves to be fighting for Republican or Democratic 
primi n though in fact concerned chiefly with place 

hunting. It is not so much positive moral defects that are to 
be charged on them as a sordid and seltish view of politics and 
a laxity, sometimes amounting to fraud, in the use of election- 
eering ii. 

These two classes do the local work and dirty work of politics. 
They are the rank and file. Above them stand the officers in 
the political army, the party managers, including the members 
of Congress and chief men in the State legislatures, and the 
editors of influential newspapers. Some of these have pushed 
their way up from the humbler ranks. Others are men of 
superior ability and education, often college graduates, lawyers 
who have had practice, less frequently merchants or manufact- 
urers who have slipped into politics from business. There are 
all sorts among them, creatures clean and unclean, as in the 
sheet of St. Peter's vision, but that one may say of politicians 
in all countries. What characterizes them as compared with 
the corresponding class in Europe is that their whole time is 
more frequently given to political work, that most of them draw 
an income from politics and the rest hope to do so, that they 
come more largely from the poorer and less cultivated than 
from the higher ranks of society, and that they include but few 
men who have pursued any of those economical, social, or con- 
stitutional studies which form the basis of politics and legisla- 
tion, although many are proficients in the arts of popular 
oratory, of electioneering, and of party management. 

They show a high average level of practical cleverness and 
versatility, and a good deal of legal knowledge. They ar-- 
usually correct in life, for intoxication as well as sexual 
immorality is condemned by American more severely than by 

VOL. II f 



66 THE PARTY SYSTEM part hi 

European opinion, but are often charged with a low tone, with 
laxity in pecuniary matters, with a propensity to commit or to 
excuse jobs, with a deficient sense of the dignity which public 
office confers and the responsibility it implies. I shall else- 
where discuss the validity of these charges, and need only 
observe here that even if the last thirty years have furnished 
some grounds for accusing the class as a whole, there are many 
brilliant exceptions, many leading politicians whose honour is 
as stainless and patriotism as pure as that of the best European 
statesmen. In this general description I am simply repeating 
what non-political Americans themselves say. It is possible 
that with their half-humorous tendency to exaggerate they 
dwell too much on the darker side of their public life. My 
own belief is that things are healthier than the newspapers 
and common talk lead a traveller to believe, and that the black- 
ness of the worst men in the large cities has been allowed to 
darken the whole class of politicians as the smoke from a few 
factories will darken the sky over a whole town. However, 
the sentiment I have described is no doubt the general senti- 
ment. " Politician " is a term of reproach, not merely among 
the " superfine philosophers " of New England colleges, but 
among the better sort of citizens over the whole Union. " How 
did such a job come to be perpetrated? n I remember once ask- 
ing a casual acquaintance who had been pointing out some 
scandalous waste of public money. " Why, what can you expect 
from the politicians?" was the surprised answer. 

Assuming these faults to exist, to what causes are they to be 
ascribed? Granted that politics has to become a gainful pro- 
fession, may it not still be practised with as much integrity as 
other professions? Do not the higher qualities of intellect, 
the ripe fruits of experience and study, win for a man ascend- 
ancy here as in Europe? Does not the suspicion of dishonour 
blight his influence with a public which is itself at least as 
morally exacting as that of any European country? These are 
questions which can be better answered when the methods of 
party management have been described, the qualities they 
evoke appreciated, their reaction on men's character under- 
stood. 

It remains to speak of the non-professional or Outer Circle 
politicians, those who work for their party without desiring 



chap, i.vn THE POLITICIANS 07 

office. These men were numerous and zealous shortly before 
and during the Civil War, when the great questions of the 
exclusion o{ slavery from the Territories and the preservation 
of the Union kindled the enthusiasm of the noblest spirits of 

the North, women as well as num. No country ever produced 
loftier types oi' dauntless courage and uncompromising devotkra 
to principle than William Lloyd Garrison and his fellow- 
workers in the Abolitionist cause. Office came to Abraham 
Lincoln, but he would have served liis party just as earnestly 
if there had been no office to reward him. 1 Nor was there any 
want of high-souled patriotism in the South. The people gave 
their blood freely, and among the leaders there were many who 
offered up fine characters as well as brilliant talents on an altar 
which all but themselves deemed unhallowed. When these 
great issues were finally settled, and the generation whose man- 
hood they filled began to pass away, there was less motive for 
ordinary citizens to trouble themselves about public affairs. 
Hence the professional politicians had the field left free; and 
as they were ready to take the troublesome work of organizing, 
the ordinary citizen was contented to be superseded, and thought 
he did enough when he went to the poll for his party. Still 
there are districts where a good deal of unpaid and disinterested 
political work is done. In some parts of New England, New 
York, and Ohio, for instance, citizens of position bestir them- 
selves to rescue the control of local elections from the ward 
politicians. In the main, however, the action of the Outer 
Circle consists in voting, and this the ordinary native citizen 
does more steadily and intelligently than anywhere in Europe, 
unless perhaps in Switzerland. Doubtless much of the work 
which Outer Circle politicians do in Europe is in America 
done by professionals. But that lively interest in politics 
which the English Outer Circle feels, and which is not felt, 
save at exceptional moments, by the English public generally, 
is in America felt by the bulk of the nation, that is to say, by 
the large majority of native white Americans, and even by the 
better sort of immigrants, or, in other words, the American 

1 Lincoln was never a professional politician, for he continued to practise 
as a lawyer till he hecame President: but he was so useful to his party that 
for some years before 1860 he had been obliged to spend great part of his 
time in political work, and probably some would have called him a profes- 
sional. 



68 THE PARTY SYSTEM. part hi 

Outer Circle comes nearer to including the whole nation than 
does the Outer Circle of England. Thus the influence which 
counterworks that of professionals is the influence of public 
opinion expressing itself constantly through its countless voices 
in the press, and more distinctly at frequent intervals by the 
ballot-box. I say "counterworks," because, while in Europe 
the leaders and still more the average legislators share and 
help to make public opinion, in the United States the politi- 
cian stands rather outside, and regards public opinion as a fac- 
tor to be reckoned with, much as the sailor regards the winds 
and currents that affect his course. His primary aim, unless 
he be exceptionally disinterested, is place and income : and it 
is in this sense that he may be described as a member of a 
definite profession. 



CHAPTER LVIII 

WHY THE BEST MEN DO XOT GO IXTO POLITICS 

"But," some one will say. who has read the reasons just 
Led for the development of a class of professional politi- 
cians, " you allow nothing for public spirit. It is easy to show 
why the prize of numerous places should breed a swarm of office- 
seekers, not so easy to understand why the office-seekers should 
be allowed to have this arena of public life in a vast country, 
a free country, an intelligent country, all to themselves. 
There ought to be patriotic citizens ready to plunge into the 
stream and save the boat from drifting towards the rapids. 
They would surely have the support of the mass of the people 
who must desire honest and economical administration. If 
such citizens stand aloof, there are but two explanations pos- 
sible. Either public life must be so foul that good men cannot 
enter it. or good men must be sadly wanting in patriotism." 

This kind of observation is so common in European mouths 
as to need an explicit answer. The answer is two-fold. 

In the first place, the arena is not wholly left to the profes- 
sionals. Both the Federal and the State legislatures contain 
a fair proportion of upright and disinterested men, who enter 
chiefly, or largely, from a sense of public duty, and whose 
presence keeps the mere professionals in order. So does pub- 
lic opinion, deterring even the bad men from the tricks to 
which they are prone, and often driving them, when detected 
in a serious offence, from place and power. 

However, this first answer is not a complete answer, for it 
must be admitted that the proportion of men of intellectual 
and social eminence who enter public life is smaller in America 
than it has been during the present century in each of the free 
countries of Europe. Does this fact indicate a want of public 
spirit*/ 



70 THE PAKTY SYSTEM part hi 

It is much to be wished that in every country public spirit 
were the chief motive propelling men into public life. But is 
it so anywhere now? Has it been so at any time in a nation's 
history? Let any one in England, dropping for the moment 
that self-righteous attitude of which Englishmen are com- 
monly accused by foreigners, ask himself how many of those 
whom he knows as mixing in the public life of his own coun- 
try have entered it from motives primarily patriotic, how 
many have been actuated by the love of fame or power, the 
hope of advancing their social pretensions or their business 
relations. There is nothing necessarily wrong in such forms 
of ambition; but if we find that they count for much in the 
public life of one country, and for comparatively little in the 
public life of another, we must expect to find the latter able 
to reckon among its statesmen fewer persons of eminent intelli- 
gence and energy. 

Now there are several conditions present in the United 
States, conditions both constitutional and social, conditions in- 
dependent either of political morality or of patriotism, which 
make the ablest citizens less disposed to enter political life 
than they would otherwise be, or than persons of the same 
class are in Europe. I have already referred to some of these, 
but recapitulate them shortly here because they are specially 
important in this connection. 

The want of a social and commercial capital is such a cause. 
To be a Eederal politician you must live in Washington, that 
is, abandon your circle of home friends, j^our profession or 
business, your local public duties. But to live in Paris or 
London is of itself an attraction to many Englishmen and 
Frenchmen. 

There is no class in America to which public political life 
comes naturally, scarcely any families with a sort of hereditary 
right to serve the State. Nobody can get an early and easy 
start on the strength of his name and connections, as still hap- 
pens in several European countries. 

In Britain or Erance a man seeking to enter the higher 
walks of public life has more than five hundred seats for which 
he may stand. If his own town or county is impossible he 
goes elsewhere. In the United States he cannot. If his own 
district is already filled by a member of his own party, there 



chap, lviii WHY THE BEST DO NOT ENTEB POLITICS 71 

is nothing to be done, unless be will condescend to under- 
mine and supplant at the next nominating convention the sit- 
ting member. It' he has been elected and happens to lose his 
own re-nomination or re-election, he cannot re-enter Congress 
by any other door. The fact that a man lias served gives 
him no claim to be allowed to go on serving. In the West, 
rotation is the rule. Xo wonder that, when a political career 
is so precarious, men of worth and capacity hesitate to em- 
brace it. They cannot afford to be thrown out of their life's 
course by a mere accident. 1 

Politics are less interesting than in Europe. The two kinds 
of questions which most attract eager or ambitious minds, 
questions of foreign policy and of domestic constitutional 
change, are generally absent, happily absent. Currency and 
tariff questions and financial affairs generally, internal im- 
provements, the regulation of railways and so forth, are 
important, no doubt, but to some minds not fascinating. How 
few people in the English or French legislatures have mastered 
them, or would relish political life if it dealt with little else! 
There are no class privileges or religions inequalities to be 
abolished. Religion, so powerful a political force in Europe, 
is outside politics altogether. 

In most European countries there has been for many years 
past an upward pressure of the poorer or the unprivileged 
masses, a pressure which has seemed to threaten the wealthier 
and more particularly the landowning class. Hence members 
of the latter class have had a strong motive for keeping tight 
hold of the helm of state. They have felt a direct personal 
interest in sitting in the legislature and controlling the ad- 
ministration of their country. This has not been so in America. 
Its great political issues have not hitherto been class issues. On 
the contrary there has been, till within the last few years, so 
great and general a sense of economic security, whether well or 
ill founded I do not now inquire, that the wealthy and educated 
have been content to leave the active work of politics alone. 

1 The tendency in Switzerland to re-elect the same men to the legislature 
and to public office has doubtless worked as much for good in politics there as 
the opposite tendency works for evil in the United States. Men who have 
supported measures which their constituency disapproves are often re-elected 
because they are thought honest and capable. The existence of the refe- 
rendum facilitates this. 



72 THE PARTY SYSTEM pakt hi 

The division of legislative authority between the Federal 
Congress and the legislatures of the States further lessens the 
interest and narrows the opportunities of a political career. 
Some of the most useful members of the English Parliament 
have been led to enter it by their zeal for philanthropic schemes 
and social reforms. Others enter because they are interested 
in foreign politics or in commercial questions. In the United 
States foreign politics and commercial questions belong to 
Congress, so no one will be led by them to enter the legisla- 
ture of his State. Social reforms and philanthropic enter- 
prises belong to the State legislatures, so no one will be led 
by them to enter Congress. The limited sphere of each body 
deprives it of the services of many active spirits who would 
have been attracted by it had it dealt with both these sets of 
matters, or with the particular set of matters in which their 
own particular interest happens to lie. 

In America there are more easy and attractive openings into 
other careers than in most European countries. The settlement 
of the great West, the making and financing of railways, the 
starting of industrial or commercial enterprises in the newer 
States, all offer a tempting field to ambition, ingenuity, and 
self-confidence. A man without capital or friends has a better 
chance than in Europe, and as the scale of undertakings is 
vaster, the prizes are more seductive. Hence much of the 
practical ability which in the Old World goes to Parliamentary 
politics or to the civil administration of the state, goes in 
America into business, especially into railways and finance. 
No class strikes one more by its splendid practical capacity 
than the class of railroad men. It includes administrative 
rulers, generals, diplomatists, financiers, of the finest gifts. 
And in point of fact (as will be more fully shown later) the 
railroad kings have of late years swayed the fortunes of 
American citizens more than the politicians. 

The fascination which politics have for many people in 
England is largely a social fascination. Those who belong 
by birth to the upper classes like to support their position in 
county society by belonging to the House of Commons, or 
by procuring either a seat in the House of Lords, or the lord- 
lieutenancy of their county, or perhaps a post in the royal 
household. The easiest path to these latter dignities lies 



■iivr. i.vn i WHY THE BEST Do NOT ENTER POLITICS 7:; 



through the Commons. Those who spring from the middle 
class expect to find by moans of politics an entrance into a 
more fashionable society than they have hitherto frequented. 
Their wives will at leasl be invited to the party receptions, 
or they may entertain a party chieftain when he comes to 
address a meeting in their town. Such inducements scarcely 
exist in America. A congressman, a city mayor, even a State 
governor, gains nothing socially by his position. There is in- 
deed, except in a few Eastern cities with exclusive sets, really 
nothing in tin 1 nature of a social prize set before social ambi- 
tion, while the career of political ambition is even in those 
cities wholly disjoined from social success. The only excep- 
tion to this rule occurs in Washington, where a senator or 
cabinet minister enjoys ex officio a certain social rank. 1 

None of these causes is discreditable to America, yet, taken 
together, they go far to account for the large development of 
the professional element among politicians. Putting the 
thing broadly, one may say that in America, while politics 
are relatively less interesting than in Europe and lead to less, 
other careers are relatively more interesting and lead to more. 2 

It may however be alleged that I have omitted one signifi- 
cant ground for the distaste of "the best people" for public 
life, viz. the bad company they would have to keep, the general 
vulgarity of tone in politics, the exposure to invective or rib- 
aldry by hostile speakers and a reckless press. 

I omit this ground because it seems insignificant. In every 
country a politician has to associate with men whom he despises 
and distrusts, and those whom he most despises and distrusts 
are sometimes those whose so-called social rank is highest — 

1 It is the same in some, though by no means in all, of the cantons of 
Switzerland. Office carries little or no social consideration with it. In some 
cantons the old families have so completely withdrawn or hecome so com- 
pletely shut out from public office, federal or cantonal, that it would he 
assumed that a politician was necessarily a plebeian. I remember to have 
been told in Bern of a foreign diplomatist who, strolling with one of the old 
patricians of the city, stopped at the door of the Government offices. " Where 
are you going?" asked the patrician. "To see one of your ministers on 
business." "You don't mean that you are going to speak to one of that 
canaille.'" was the reply. The minister was, as Swiss statesmen generally 
are. a perfectly respectable man ; but to a Bernese Junker his being a minister 
was enough to condemn him. 

- This is true even of eminence in letters or art. A great writer or eloquent 
preacher is more honoured and valued in America than in England. 



74 THE PARTY SYSTEM part hi 

the sons or brothers of great nobles. In every country he is 
exposed to misrepresentation and abuse, and the most galling 
misrepresentations are not the coarse and incredible ones, but 
those which have a semblance of probability, which delicately 
discolour his motives and ingeniously pervert his words. A 
statesman must soon learn, even in decorous England or punc- 
tilious France or polished Italy, to disregard all this, and rely 
upon his conscience for his peace of mind, and upon his con- 
duct for the respect of his countrymen. If he can do so in 
England or France or Italy, he may do so in America also. 
No more there than in Europe has any upright man been 
written down, for though the American press is unsparing, 
the American people are shrewd, and sometimes believe too 
little rather than too much evil of a man whom the press 
assails. Although therefore one hears the pseudo-European 
American complain of newspaper violence, and allege that it 
keeps him and his friends from doing their duty by their 
country, and although it sometimes happens that the fear of 
newspaper attacks deters a good citizen from exposing some 
job or jobber, still I could not learn the name of any able and 
high-minded man of whom it could be truly said that through 
this cause his gifts and virtues had been reserved for private 
life. The roughness of politics has, no doubt, some influence 
on the view which wealthy Americans take of a public career, 
but these are just the Americans who think that European 
politics are worked, to use the common phrase, "with kid 
gloves," and they are not the class most inclined anyhow to 
come to the front for the service of the nation. Without deny- 
ing that there is recklessness in the American press, and a 
notable want of refinement in politics generally, I doubt 
whether these phenomena have anything like the importance 
which European visitors are taught, and willingly learn, to 
attribute to them. Ear more weight is to be laid upon the 
difficulties which the organization of the party system, to be 
described in the following chapters, throws in the way of men 
who seek to enter public life. There is, as we shall see, much 
that is disagreeable, much that is even humiliating, in the 
initial stages of a political career, and doubtless many a pil- 
grim turns back after a short experience of this Slough of 
Despond. 



chap, i. viii WHY THE BEST DO NOT ENTEB POLITICS 



5 J 



To explain the causes which keep so much of the finest Intel 

led of the country away from national business is one thin 
to deny the unfortunate results would be quite another. Un- 
fortunate they certainly are. But the downward tendency 
observable since the end of the Civil War seems to have been 
arrested. When the war was over, the Union saved, and the 
curse of slavery gone for ever, there came a season of content- 
ment and of lassitude. A nation which had surmounted such 
dangers seemed to have nothing more to fear. Those who 
had fought with tongue and pen and rifle, might now rest on 
their laurels. After long-continued strain and effort, the 
wearied nerve and muscle sought repose. It was repose from 
political warfare only. For the end of the war coincided with 
the opening of a time of swift material growth and abounding 
material prosperity, in which industry and the development 
of the West absorbed more and more of the energy of the peo- 
ple. Hence a neglect of the details of politics by the better 
class of voters such as had never been seen before. The last 
few years have brought a revival of interest in public affairs, 
and especially in the management of cities. There is more 
speaking and writing and thinking, practical and definite 
thinking, upon the principles of government than at any pre- 
vious epoch. Good citizens are beginning to put their hands 
to the machinery of government; and it is noticed that those 
who do so are, more largely than formerly, young men, who 
have not contracted the bad habits which the practice of poli- 
tics has engendered among many of their elders, and who will 
in a few years have become an even more potent force than 
they are now. If the path to Congress and the State legisla- 
tures and the higher municipal offices were cleared of the 
stumbling-blocks and dirt heaps which now encumber it, cun- 
ningly placed there by the professional politicians, a great 
change would soon pass upon the composition of legislative 
bodies, and a new spirit be felt in the management of State 
and municipal as well as of national affairs. 



CHAPTEK LIX 

PARTY ORGANIZATIONS 

The Americans are, to use their favourite expression, a highly 
executive people, with a greater ingenuity in inventing means, 
and a greater promptitude in adapting means to an end, than 
any European race. Xowhere are large undertakings organized 
so skilfully; nowhere is there so much order with so much 
complexity; nowhere such quickness in correcting a suddenly 
discovered defect, in supplying a suddenly arisen demand. 

Government by popular vote, both local and national, is older 
in America than in continental Europe. It is far more complete 
than even in England. It deals with larger masses of men. 
Its methods have engaged a greater share of attention, and 
enlisted more inventive skill in their service, than anywhere 
else in the world. They have therefore become more elaborate 
and, so far as mere mechanism goes, more perfect than elsewhere. 

The greatest discovery ever made in the art of war was when 
men began to perceive that organization and discipline count 
for more than numbers. This discovery gave the Spartan 
infantry a long career of victory in Greece, and the Swiss 
infantry a not less brilliant renown in the later Middle Ages. 
The Americans made a similar discovery in politics some fifty 
or sixty years ago. By degrees, for even in America great 
truths do not burst full-grown upon the world, it was perceived 
that the victories of the ballot-box, no less than of the sword, 
must be won by the cohesion and disciplined docility of the 
troops, and that these merits can only be secured b}~ skilful 
organization and long-continued training. Both parties flung 
themselves into the task, and the result has been an extremely 
complicated system of party machinery, firm yet flexible, deli- 
cate yet quickly set up and capable of working well in the 
roughest communities. Strong necessity, long practice, and the 



chap, liz PARTY ORGANIZATIONS 77 

fierce competition of the two great parties, have enabled this 
executive people to Burpass itself in the sphere of electioneering 

polities. Yet the principles are so simple that it will he the 
narrator's fault if they are not understood, 

One preliminary word upon the object of a party organiza- 
tion. To a European politician, by which I mean one who 
knows politics but does not know America, the aims of a party 
organization, be it loeal or general, seem to be four in number — 

Union — to keep the party together and prevent it from 
wasting its strength by dissensions and schisms. 

Recruiting — to bring in new voters, e.g. immigrants when 
they obtain citizenship, young men as they reach the age 
of suffrage, new-comers, or residents hitherto indifferent or 
hostile. 

Enthusiasm — to excite the voters by the sympathy of num- 
bers and the sense of a common purpose, rousing them by 
speeches or literature. 

Instruction — to give the voters some knowledge of the 
political issues they have to decide, to inform them of the 
virtues of their leaders, and the crimes of their opponents. 

These aims, or at least the first three of them, are pursued 
by the party organizations of America with eminent success. 
But they are less important than a fifth object which has been 
little regarded in Europe, though in America it is the main- 
spring of the w r hole mechanism. This is the selection of party 
candidates ; and it is important not only because the elective 
places are far more numerous than in any European country, 
but because they are tenable for short terms, so that elections 
frequently recur. Since the parties, having of late had no 
really distinctive principles, and therefore no well-defined aims 
in the direction of legislation or administration, exist practi- 
cally for the sake of filling certain offices, and carrying on the 
machinery of government, the choice of those members of the 
party whom the party is to reward, and who are to strengthen 
it by the winning of the offices, becomes a main end of its being. 

There are three ways by which in self-governing countries 
candidates may be brought before electors. One is for the 
candidate to offer himself, appealing to his fellow-citizens on 
the strength of his personal merits, or family connections, or 



78 THE PARTY SYSTEM part hi 

wealth, or local influence. This was the practice in most 
English constituencies till our own time ; and seems to be the 
practice over parliamentary Europe still. It was not un- 
common in the Southern States before the Civil War. Another 
is for a group or junto of influential men to put a candidate 
forward, intriguing secretly for him or openly recommending 
him to the electors. This also largely prevailed in England, 
where, in counties, four or five of the chief landowners used to 
agree as to the one of themselves who should stand for the 
county, or perhaps chose the eldest son of a duke or marquis as 
the person whom rank designated. 1 So in Scotch burghs a knot 
of active bailies and other citizens combined to bring out a 
candidate, but generally kept their action secret, for "the 
clique " was always a term of reproach. The practice is com- 
mon in France now, where the committees of each party recom- 
mend a candidate. 

The third system is that in which the candidate is chosen 
neither by himself nor by the self -elected local group, but by 
the people themselves, i.e. by the members of a party, whether 
assembled in mass or acting through representatives chosen for 
the purpose. This plan offers several advantages. It promises 
to secure a good candidate, because presumably the people will 
choose a suitable man. It encourages the candidate, by giving 
him the weight of party support, and therefore tends to induce 
good men to come forward. It secures the union of the party, 
because a previous vote has determined that the candidate is 
the man whom the majority prefer, and the minority are there- 
fore likely, having had their say and been fairly outvoted, to 
fall into line and support him. This is the system which now 
prevails from Maine to California, and is indeed the keystone 
of trans -atlantic politics. But there is a further reason for it 
than those I have mentioned. 

That no American dreams of offering himself for a post un- 
less he has been chosen by his party, or some section thereof, 
is due not to the fact that few persons have the local pre- 
eminence which the social conditions of Europe bestow on the 

1 Thus in Mr. Disraeli's novel of Tancred the county member, a man of 
good birth and large estates, offers to retire in order to make room for the 
eldest son of the Duke when he comes of age. This would not happen now- 
a-days, unless of course the duke were a party leader, and the county member 
desired to be rewarded by a peerage. 



chap.us PABTI ORGANIZATIONS 79 

loading landowners of a neighbourhood, or on some great mer- 
chants Or employers in a town, nor again to the modesty 
which makes an English candidate hesitate to appear as a 
candidate for Parliament until he has got up a requisition to 
himself to stand, but to the notion that the popular mind and 
will are and must be all in all, that the people must not only 
create the office-bearer by their votes, but even designate the 
persons tor whom votes may be given. For a man to put 
himself before the voters is deemed presumptuous, because an 
encroachment on their right to say whom they will even so 
much as consider. Hie theory of popular sovereignty requires 
that the ruling majority must name its own standard-bearers 
and servants, the candidates, must define its own platform, 
must in every way express its own mind and will. Were it to 
leave these matters to the initiative of candidates offering 
themselves, or candidates put forward by an unauthorized 
clique, it would subject itself to them, would be passive instead 
of active, would cease to be worshipped as the source of power. 
A system for selecting candidates is therefore not a mere con- 
trivance for preventing party dissensions, but an essential fea- 
ture of matured democracy. 

It was not however till democracy came to maturity that the 
system was perfected. As far back as the middle of last 
century it was the custom in Massachusetts, and probably in 
other colonies, for a coterie of leading citizens to put forward 
candidates for the offices of the town or colony, and their nomi- 
nations, although clothed with no authority but that of the 
individuals making them, were generally accepted. This lasted 
on after the Revolution, for the structure of society still retained 
a certain aristocratic quality. Clubs sprang up which, espe- 
cially in New York State, became the organs of groups and 
parties, brought out candidates, and conducted election cam- 
paigns; while in Xew England the clergy and the men of 
substance continued to act as leaders. Presently, as the 
democratic spirit grew, and people would no longer acquiesce 
in self-appointed chiefs, the legislatures began to be recognized 
as the bodies to make nominations for the higher Federal and 
State offices. Each party in Congress nominated the candidate 
to be run for the presidency, each party in a State legislature 
the candidate for governor, and often for other places also. 



80 THE PARTY SYSTEM part hi 

This lasted during the first two or three decades of the present 
century, till the electoral suffrage began to be generally lowered, 
and a generation which had imbibed Jeffersonian principles had 
come to manhood, a generation so filled with the spirit of 
democratic equality that it would recognize neither the natural 
leaders whom social position and superior intelligence indi- 
cated, nor the official leadership of legislative bodies. As party 
struggles grew more bitter, a party organization became neces- 
sary, which better satisfied the claims of petty local leaders, 
which knit the voters in each district together and concentrated 
their efforts, while it expressed the absolute equality of all 
voters, and the right of each to share in determining his candi- 
date and his party platform. The building up of this new 
organization was completed for the Democratic party about the 
year 1835, for the Whig party not till some years later. When 
the Republican party arose about 1854, it reproduced so closely, 
or developed on lines so similar, the methods which experience 
had approved, that the differences between the systems of the 
two great parties are now unimportant, and may be disregarded 
in the sketch I have to give. It is not so much these differ- 
ences as the variations between the arrangements in cities and 
those in rural districts as well as between the arrangements in 
different " Sections n of the country, that make it hard to pre- 
sent a perfectly accurate and yet concise description. 

The essential feature of the system is that it is from bottom 
to top strictly representative. This is because it has power, 
and power can flow only from the people. An organization 
which exists, like the political associations of Britain, solely 
or mainly for the sake of canvassing, conducting registration, 
diffusing literature, getting up courses of lectures, holding 
meetings and' passing resolutions, has little or no power. 
Its object is to excite, or to persuade, or to manage such busi- 
ness as the defective registration system of the country leaves 
to be fulfilled by voluntary agencies. So too in America the 
committees or leagues which undertake to create or stimulate 
opinion have no power, and need not be strictly representative. 
But when an organization which the party is in the habit of 
obeying, chooses a party candidate, it exerts power, power often 
of the highest import, because it practically narrows the choice 
of a party, that is, of about a half of the people, to one par- 



t hap. 1 1\ l'AK l V ORGANIZATIONS Bl 

ticular person out of the many for whom they might be inclined 
to vote. 1 Smm power would not be yielded to any bu1 a 
representative body, and it is yielded to the bodies I shall 
ribe because they are. at least in theory, representative, 
and are therefore deemed to have the weight of the people 
behind them. 

1 The rapid change in the practice of England in this point is a curious 
symptom of the progress of democratic ideas and nsages there. As late as 

icral elections of 1868 and 1^74. nearly all candidates offered them- 
to the constituency, though some professed to do so in pursuance of 
requisitions emanating from the electors. In 1880 many — I think most — Liberal 
candidates in boroughs, and some in counties, were chosen by the local parti- 
tions, and appealed to the Liberal electors on the ground of having 
been so chosen. In 1885 and again in 1892, all or nearly all new Liberal candi- 
dates were BO chosen, and a man offering himself against the nominee of the 
association was denounced as an interloper and traitor to the party. The 
same process has been going on in the Tory party, though more slowly. The 
influence of the locally wealthy, and also that of the central party office, is 
somewhat greater among the Tories, but in course of time choice by repre- 
senta; rions will doubtless become the rule. 

VOL. II G 



CHAPTER LX 

THE MACHINE 

The organization of an American party consists of two dis- 
tinct, but intimately connected, sets of bodies, the one perma- 
nent, the other temporary. The function of the one is to 
manage party business, of the other to nominate party candi- 
dates. 

The first of these is a system of managing committees. In 
some States every election district has such a committee, 
whose functions cover the political work of the district. Thus 
in country places there is a township committee, in cities a 
ward committee. There is a committee for every city, for 
every district, and for every county. In other States it is 
only the larger areas, cities, counties, and Congressional or 
State Assembly districts that have committees. There is, of 
course, a committee for each State, with a general supervision 
of such political work as has to be done in the State as a 
whole. There is a National Committee for the political busi- 
ness of the party in the Union as a whole, and especially for 
the presidential contest. 1 The whole country is covered by 
this network of committees, each with a sphere of action cor- 
responding to some constituency or local election area, so that 
the proper function of a city committee, for instance, is to 
attend to elections for city offices, of a ward committee to 
elections for ward offices, of a district committee to elections 
for district offices. Of course the city committee, while 
supervising the general conduct of city elections, looks to 
each ward organization to give special attention to the elec- 
tions in its own ward; and the State committee will in State 

1 Within the State Committees and National Committee there is a small 
Executive Committee which practically does most of the work and exercises 
most of the power. 



THE MACHINE 88 



elections expect similar help from, and be entitled to issue 
directions to. all bodies acting for the minor areas — districts, 
counties, townships, cities, and wards — comprised in the 
State. The smaller local committees are in fact autonomous 
tor their special local purposes, but subordinate in so far as 
they serve the Larger purposes common to the whole party. 
The ordinary business of these committees is to raise and 
apply funds for election purposes and for political agitation 
generally, to organize meetings when necessary, to disseminate 
political tracts and other information, to look after the press, 
to attend to the admission of immigrants as citizens and their 
enrolment on the party lists. 1 At election times they have 
also to superintend the canvass, to procure and distribute 
tickets at the polls, to allot money for various election ser- 
vices; but they are often aided, or virtually superseded, in 
this work by "campaign committees " specially created for the 
occasion. Finally, they have to convoke at the proper times 
those nominating assemblies which form the other parallel but 
distinct half of the party organization. 

These committees are permanent bodies, that is to say, they 
are always in existence and capable of being called into activity 
at short notice. They are re-appointed annually by the Pri- 
mary (hereinafter described) or Convention (as the case may 
be) for their local area, and of course their composition may be 
completely changed on a re-appointment. In practice it is 
but little changed, the same men continuing to serve year after 
year, because they hold the strings in their hands, because 
they know most and care most about the party business. In 
particular, the chairman is apt to be practically a permanent 
official, and (if the committee be one for a populous area) a 
powerful and important official, who has large sums to dis- 
burse and quite an army of workers under his orders. The 
chairmanship of the organizing committee of the county and 
city of New York (these areas being the same), for instance, 
is a post of great responsibility and influence, in which high 
executive gifts find a worthy sphere for their exercise. 

One function and one only is beyond the competence of 

1 The business of registration is, I think, in all States undertaken by the 
public authority for the locality, instead of being, as in England, partially left 
to the action of the individual citizen or of the parties. 



84 THE PARTY SYSTEM part hi 

these committees — tlie choice of candidates. That belongs 
to the other branch of the organization, the nominating 
assemblies. 

Every election district, by which I mean every local area or 
constituency which chooses a person for any office or post, 
administrative, legislative, or judicial, has a party meeting 
to select the party candidate for that office. This is called 
Nominating. If the district is not subdivided, i.e. does not 
contain any lesser districts, its meeting is called a Primary. 
A primary has two duties. One is to select the candidates 
for its own local district offices. Thus in the country a 
township primary 1 nominates the candidates for township 
offices, in a city a ward primary nominates those for ward 
offices (if any). The other duty is to elect delegates to the 
nominating meetings of larger areas, such as the county or 
congressional district in which the township is situate, or the 
city to which the ward belongs. The primary is composed of 
all the party voters resident within the bounds of the town- 
ship or ward. They are not too numerous, for in practice the 
majority do not attend, to meet in one room, and they are 
assumed to be all alike interested. But as the party voters in 
such a large area as a county, congressional district, or city, 
are too numerous to be able to meet and deliberate in one 
room, they usually act through representatives, and entrust 
the choice of candidates for office to a body called a Nominat- 
ing Convention. 2 This body is composed of delegates from all 
the primaries within its limits, chosen at those primaries for 
the sole purpose of sitting in the convention and of there select- 
ing the candidates. 

Sometimes a convention of this kind has itself to choose 
delegates to proceed to a still higher convention for a larger 
area. The greatest of all nominating bodies, that which is 
called the National Convention and nominates the party can- 

1 1 take township and ward as examples, but in parts of the country where 
the township is not the unit of local government (see Chapter XL V ILL ante). 
the local unit, whatever it is, must he substituted. 

2 Xow, however, it sometimes happens that a primary is held for a whole 
Congressional district or city, the party voters voting at party polls (under a 
statute) for the persons proposed for party can Mates, just as they would vote 
at an election. In a recent (1893) such city primary election at Louisville | Kv. . 
I rind the primary treated by the local journals as beiug virtually the election. 



THE MACHINE 



didate for the presidency, is entirely composed of deli 
from other conventions, do primary being directly represented 
in it. Asa rule, however, there arc only two sets of nomi- 
nating authorities, the primary which selects candidates for its 
own petty offices, the convention composed of the delegates 
from all the primaries in the local circumscriptions of the 
district for which the convention acts. 

A primary, of course, sends delegates to a number of differ- 
ent conventions, because its area, let us say the township or 
ward, is included in a number of different election districts, 
each of which lias its own convention. Thus the same pri- 
mary will in a city choose delegates to at least the following 
conventions, and probably to one or two others. 1 (a) To the 
city convention, which nominates the mayor and other city 
officers, {b) To the Assembly district convention, which nomi- 
nates candidates for the lower house of the State legislature. 
.' > the senatorial district convention, which nominates 
candidates for the State Senate, (d) To the congressional 
district convention, which nominates candidates for Congress. 
(e) To the State convention, which nominates candidates for 
the governorship and other State offices. Sometimes, however, 
the nominating body for an Assembly district is a primary and 
not a convention. In Xew York City the Assembly district is 
the unit, and each of the thirty districts has its primary. 

This seems complex : but it is a reflection of the complexity 
of government, there being everywhere three authorities, Fed- 
eral, State, and Local (this last further subdivided), covering 
the same ground, yet the two former quite independent of one 
another, and the third for many purposes distinct from the 
second. 

The course of business is as follows: — A township or ward 
primary is summoned by the local party managing committee, 
who fix the hour and place of meeting, or if there be not such 
a committee, then by some permanent officer of the organi- 
zation in manner prescribed by the by-laws. A primary for 
a larger area is usually summoned by the county committee. 

1 There may be also a county convention for county offices, and a judicial 
district convention for judgeships, but in a large city or county the county 
convention delegates may also be delegates to the congressional convention, 
perhaps also to the State assembly district and senatorial district conventions. 



86 THE PARTY SYSTEM part hi 

If candidates have to be chosen for local offices, various names 
are submitted and either accepted without a division or put to 
the vote, the person who gets most votes being declared chosen 
to be the party candidate. He is said to have received the 
party nomination. The selection of delegates to the various 
conventions is conducted in the same way. The local com- 
mittee has usually prepared beforehand a list of names of per- 
sons to be chosen to serve as delegates, but any voter present 
may bring forward other names. All names, if not accepted 
by general consent, are then voted on. At the close of the pro- 
ceedings the chairman signs the list of delegates chosen to the 
approaching convention or conventions, if more than one, 
and adjourns the meeting sine die. 

The delegates so chosen proceed in due course to their 
respective conventions, which are usually held a few days 
after the primaries, and a somewhat longer period before the 
elections for offices. 1 The convention is summoned by the 
managing committee for the district it exists for, and when a 
sufficient number of delegates are present, some one proposes 
a temporary chairman, or the delegate appointed for the pur- 
pose by the committee of the district for which the convention 
is being held " calls the meeting to order " as temporary chair- 
man. This person names a Committee on Credentials, which 
forthwith examines the credentials presented by the delegates 
from the primaries, and admits those whom it deems duly 
accredited. Then a permanent chairman is proposed and 
placed in the chair, and the convention is held to be " organ- 
ized," i.e. duly constituted. The managing committee have 
almost always arranged beforehand who shall be proposed as 
candidates for the party nominations, and their nominees are 
usually adopted. However, any delegate may propose any 
person he thinks fit, being a recognized member of the party, 
and carry him on a vote if he can. The person adopted 
by a majority of delegates' votes becomes the party candi- 
date, having "received the nomination." The convention 
sometimes, but not always, also amuses itself by passing 
resolutions expressive of its political sentiments ; or if it 

1 In the case of elections to the Presidency and to the Governorship of a 
State the interval between the nominating convention and the election is 
much longer — in the former case about four months. 



chap, i \ THE MACHINE 87 

is a State convention or a National convention, it adopts a 
platform, touching on, rather than dealing with, the main 
questions of the day. It then, having fulfilled its mission, 
adjourns sine die, and the rest of the election business falls to 
the managing committee. It must be remembered that pri- 
maries ami conventions, unlike the local party associations of 
England, are convoked but once, make their nominations, and 
vanish. They are swans which sing their one song and die. 

The national convention held every fourth year before a 
presidential election needs a fuller description, which I shall 
give presently. Meantime three features of the system just 
outlined may be adverted to. 

Every voter belonging to the party in the local area for which 
the primary is held, is presumably entitled to appear and vote 
in it. In rural districts, where everybody knows everybody 
else, there is no difficulty about admission, for if a Democrat 
came into a Republican primary, or a Republican from North 
Adams tried to vote in the Republican primary of Lafayette- 
ville, he would be recognized as an intruder and expelled. But 
in cities where people do not know their neighbours by head- 
mark, it becomes necessary to have regular lists of the party 
voters entitled to a voice in the primary. These are made up 
by the local committee, which may exclude persons whom, 
though they call themselves Republicans (or Democrats, as the 
cases may be), it deems not loyal members of the party. The 
usual test is, Did the claimant vote the party ticket at the last 
important election, generally the presidential election, or that 
for the State governorship? If he did not, he may be excluded. 
Frequently, however, the local rules of the party require every 
one admitted to the list of party voters to be admitted by the 
votes of the existing members, who may reject him at their 
pleasure, and also exact from each member two pledges, to obey 
the local committee, and to support the party nominations, the 
breach of either pledge being punishable by expulsion. In 
many primaries voters supposed to be disagreeably independent 
are kept out either by the votes of the existing members or 
by the application of these strict tests. Thus it happens that 
three-fourths or even four-fifths of the party voters in a pri- 
mary area may not be on the lists and entitled to raise their 
voice in the primary for the selection of candidates or dele- 



88 THE PARTY SYSTEM part hi 

gates. Another regulation, restricting nominations to those 
who are enrolled members of the regular organization, makes 
persons so kept off the list ineligible as party candidates. 

Every member of a nominating meeting, be it a primary or 
a convention of delegates, is deemed to be bound by the vote 
of the majority to support the candidate whom the majority 
select, whether or no an express pledge to that effect has been 
given. And in the case of a convention a delegate is generally 
held to bind those whom he represents, i.e. the voters at the 
primary which sent him. Of course no compulsion is possible, 
but long usage and an idea of fair play have created a senti- 
ment of honour (so-called) and party loyalty strong enough, 
with most people and in all but extreme cases, to secure for 
the party's candidate the support of the whole party organiza- 
tion in the district. 1 It is felt that the party must be kept 
together, and that he who has come into the nominating assem- 
bly hoping to carry his own candidate ought to obey the decision 
of the majority. The vote of a majority has a sacredness in 
America not yet reached in Europe. 

As respects the freedom left to delegates to vote at their own 
pleasure or under the instructions of their primary, and to vote 
individually or as a solid body, the practice is not uniform. 
Sometimes they are sent up to the nominating convention 
without instructions, even without the obligation to "go solid." 
Sometimes they are expressly directed, or it is distinctly 
understood by them and by the primary, that they are to sup- 
port the claims of a particular person to be selected as candidate, 
or that they are at any rate to vote altogether for one person. 
Occasionally they are even given a list arranged in order of 
preference, and told to vote for A. B., failing him for C. D., 
failing him for E. E., these being persons whose names have 
already been mentioned as probable candidates for the nomi- 
nation. This, however, would only happen in the case of the 
greater offices, such as those of member of Congress or governor 
of a State. The point is in practice less important than it 
seems, because in most cases, whether there be any specific and 
avowed instruction or not, it is well settled beforehand by 
those who manage the choice of delegates what candidate any 

1 The obligation is however much less strict in the case of municipal elec- 
tions, in which party considerations sometimes count for little. 



THE MACHINE 



set of delegates are to support, or at Least whose lead they are 
to follow in the nominating convention. 

Note further how complex is the machinery needed to enable 
the party to concentrate its force in support of its candidates 
for all those places, and how large the number of persons 
constituting the machinery. Three sets of offices, municipal 
or county, State, Federal, have to be filled; three different sets 
of nominating bodies are therefore needed. If we add together 
all the members of all the conventions included in these three; 
sets, the number of persons needed to serve as delegates will 
be found to reach a high total, even if some of them serve in 
more than one convention. Men whose time is valuable will 
refuse the post of delegate, gladly leaving to others who desire 
it the duty of selecting candidates for offices to which they sel- 
dom themselves aspire. However, as we shall see, such men 
are but rarely permitted to become delegates, even when they 
desire the function. 

"Why these tedious details?" the European reader may 
exclaim. " Of what consequence can they be compared to the 
Constitution and laws of the country?" Patience. These 
details have more significance and make more difference to the 
working of the government than many of the provisions of the 
Constitution itself. The mariner feels the trade winds which 
sweep over the surface of the Pacific and sees nothing of the 
coral insects which are at work beneath its waves, but it is by 
the labour of these insects that islands grow, and reefs are 
built up on which ships perish. 



CHAPTER LXI 

WHAT THE MACHINE HAS TO DO 

The system I have described is simple in principle, and would 
be simple in working if applied in a European country where 
elective offices are few. The complexity which makes it puzzle 
many Americans, and bewilder all Europeans, arises from the 
extraordinary number of elections to which it is applied, and 
from the way in which the conventions for different election 
districts cross and overlap one another. A few instances may 
serve to convey to the reader some impression of this profusion 
of elections and intricacy of nominating machinery. 

In Europe a citizen rarely votes more than twice or thrice a 
year, sometimes less often, and usually for only one person at 
a time. Thus in England any householder, say at Manchester 
or Liverpool, votes once a year for a town councillor (if there 
is a contest) ; once in three years for members of a school board 
(if there is a contest) ; once in four years (on an average) 
for a member of the House of Commons. 1 Allowing for the 
frequent cases in which there is no municipal contest in his 
ward, he will not on an average vote more than one and a half 
times each year. It is much the same in Scotland, nor do 
elections seem to be more frequent in Erance, Germany, or 
Italy, or even perhaps in Switzerland. 

Now compare the elections held to fill offices in the great 
State of Ohio, which is fairly typical of the middle or older 
Western States. Citizens vote at the polls for the following 
five sets of offices. Eor simplicity I take the case of a city 

1 He may also vote once a year for guardians of the poor, but this office has 
been usually so little sought that the election excites slight interest and com- 
paratively few persons vote. If he goes to a vestry meeting he may, in places 
where there is a select vestry, vote for its members. 
90 



OHAF.LXi WHAT THE MACHINE HAS TO DO 91 

instead of a rural district, but the number of elective offices is 
nearly the same in the latter. 

I. Federal Offices. — Election held: — Once in every four 
years — Electors of the President of the United States. Once 
in every two years — Members of the House of Representatives 
of the United States. 

II. State Offices. — Once in each year — Member of the 
Hoard of Public Works (to serve for three years) ; Judge of 
the Supreme Court (to serve for five years). Once in tivo years 

— Governor of the State of Ohio; Lieutenant-Governor of 
Ohio; Secretary of State of Ohio; Treasurer of Ohio ; Attorney- 
General of Ohio; State Senators (elected in each Senatorial 
district); .Members of the State House of Representatives 
(elected in each Representative district). Once in three years 

— State Commissioner of Common Schools; Clerk of the Su- 
preme Court. Once in four years — Auditor of the State. 

III. District Offices. — Once in two years — Circuit Judge 
(to serve for six years). Once in five years — Judge of the 
Court of Common Pleas (to serve for five years). Once in ten 
years — Member of the State Board of Equalization. 

IV. Couxty Offices. — Once in each year — County Com- 
missioner (to serve for three }^ears) ; Infirmary Directors (to 
serve for three years). Once in tivo years — County Treasurer; 
Sheriff; Coroner. Once in three years — County Auditor; 
Recorder; Surveyor; Judge of Probate; Clerk of Court of 
Common Pleas ; Prosecuting Attorney. 

V. City Offices. — Once in each year — Members of the 
Board of Police Commissioners (in most cities) ; Members of 
Board of Infirmary Directors (to serve for three years) ; 
Trustee of Water Works (to serve for three years). Once in 
two years — Mayor; City Clerk; Auditor (if any) ; Treasurer; 
Solicitor; Police Judge (in large cities) ; Prosecuting Attorney 
of the Police Court (in large cities) ; Clerk of Police Court 
(in large cities) ; City Commissioner (in cities of the second 
class); Marshal (not in the largest cities); Street Commis- 
sioner; Civil Engineer (if elected at the polls) ; 1 Fire Surveyor 
(if elected at the polls) ; * Superintendent of Markets (if 
elected at the polls). 1 

1 The city council has power to determine whether these officers shall be 
appointed by them or elected at the polls. 



92 THE PARTY SYSTEM part hi 

I have omitted from the above list — 

All offices to which the council of a city appoints, because 
these are not conferred by popular election. 

All unpaid elective offices (except presidential electors), 
although many of these furnish opportunities for gain and in- 
fluence. 1 

All offices which are found only in one or both of the two 
great cities of Cincinnati and Cleveland. 

This list shows a total of seven elections at the polls taking 
•place annually, twenty-one to twenty-six (according to circum- 
stances) taking place biennially, eight taking place triennially, 
two quadrennially, one quinquennially, one decennially, — giv- 
ing an average in round numbers of twenty-two elections in 
each year. Of course this does not mean that there are twenty- 
two separate and distinct elections, for many of the State offices 
are filled up at one and the same election, as also most of the 
city offices at one and the same election. It means that there 
are, on an average, twenty -two different paid offices 2 which a 
voter has annually to allot by his vote — that is to say, he 
must in each and every year make up his mind as to the quali- 
fications of twenty-two different persons or sets of persons to 
fill certain offices. As nearly all these offices are contested on 
political lines, though the respective principles (if any) of 
Republicans and Democrats have no more to do with the dis- 
charge of the duties of the State and local offices than the 
respective principles of Methodists and Baptists, nominations 
to them are made by the respective party organizations. 
Candidates for all, or nearly all, the above offices are nominated 
in conventions composed of delegates from primaries. I cannot 
give the precise number of conventions, but there must be at 
least seven or eight, although one or two of these will not be 
held every year. As the areas with their respective conven- 
tions overlap, the same primary will in each year send different 

1 The ward offices are omitted from the above list, because they are usually- 
unpaid, and the township offices because they represent in the rural districts 
what the ward offices are in the towns. The candidates for ward and township 
offices are nominated in primaries. 

2 If the unpaid offices were included, the average would rise to about 
twenty-five, and some of these offices (e.g. that of Alderman) are fought 
on political lines because they give influence and patronage. The text there- 
fore understates the case. In some cities the office of alderman is paid: in 
most it is much sought after. 



chap.uu WHAT THE MACHINE HAS TO DO 98 

; delegates to as many differenl nominating conventions, 

six or seven at least, as there are sets of offices to be filled up 
in that year. The number and names of the elective offices 
dift'er in different States of the Union, but the general features 
of the system are similar. 

Let us now take another illustration from Massachusetts, 
and regard the system from another side by observing how- 
many sets of delegates a primary will have to send to the several 
nominating conventions which cover the local area to which 
the primary belongs. 1 

A Massachusetts primary will choose the following sets of 
persons, including committee-men, candidates, and delegates : — 

I. Ward and city committees in cities, and town committees in towns. 2 
•J. In cities, candidates for common council and board of aldermen; 

in towns, candidates for town officers, i.e. selectmen, school committee, 
ers of poor, town clerk and treasurer, assessors of taxes, etc. 
In cities, delegates to a convention to nominate city officers. 
4. Delegates to a convention to nominate county officers. 
6. Candidates for representatives to State legislature, or delegates to 
a convention to nominate the same. 

6. Delegates to a convention for nominating candidates for State 
Senate. 

7. Delegates to a convention for nominating candidates for State Gov- 
ernor's council. 

8. Delegates to a convention for nominating candidates for State 
offices {e.g. Governor, Lieutenant-Governor, etc.). 

The above are annual. Then every two years — 

0. Delegates to a congressional district convention for nominating 
candidates for representatives to Congress. 

Then every four years — ■ 

10. Delegates to a district convention for nominating other delegates 
(corresponding to the members of Congress) to the national Presidential 
Convention of the party ; and 

II. Delegates to a general convention for nominating four delegates 
at large (corresponding to United States senators) to national Presidential 
Convention. 3 

1 1 owe the following list, and the explanatory note at the end of the vol- 
ume to the kindness of a friend in Massachusetts (Mr. G. Bradford of Boston), 
who has given much attention to the political methods of his country. 

- A " town " in Now England is the unit of rural lo:al government corre- 
sponding to the township of the Middle and "Western States. See Chapter 
XLVm. ante. 

3 See further the note to this chapter in the Appendix. 



94 THE PARTY SYSTEM part. in 

In New York City, at the November elections, there are 
usually from one hundred and sixty to two hundred candidates 
for the various offices, even when the year is not one of those 
when presidential electors are chosen ; and all these have been 
nominated at primaries or conventions. But I need not weary 
the reader with further examples, for the facts above stated 
are fairly illustrative of what goes on over the whole Union. 

It is hard to keep one's head through this mazy whirl of 
offices, elections, and nominating conventions. In America 
itself one finds few ordinary citizens who can state the details 
of the system, though these are of course familiar to profes- 
sional politicians. 

The first thing that strikes a European who contemplates 
this organization is the great mass of work it has to do. In 
Ohio, for instance, there are, if we count in such unpaid offices 
as are important in the eyes of politicians, on an average more 
than twenty-five offices to be filled annually by election. Pri- 
maries or conventions have to select candidates for all of these. 
Managing committees have to organize the primaries, "run" 
the conventions, conduct the elections. Here is ample occu- 
pation for a professional class. 

What are the results which one may expect this abundance 
of offices and elections to produce? 

The number of delegates needed being large, since there are 
so many conventions, it will be hard to find an adequate num- 
ber of men of any mark or superior intelligence to act as 
delegates. The bulk will be persons unlikely to possess, still 
more unlikely to exercise, a careful or independent judgment. 
The function of delegate being in the case of most conventions 
humble and uninteresting, because the offices are unattractive 
to good men, persons whose time is valuable will not, even if 
they do exist in sufficient numbers, seek it. Hence the best 
citizens, i.e. the men of position and intelligence, will leave 
the field open to inferior persons who have any private or 
personal reason for desiring to become delegates. I do not 
mean to imply that there is necessarily any evil in this as 
regards most of the offices, but mention the fact to explain why 
few men of good social position think of the office of delegate, 
except to the National Convention once in four years, as one of 
trust or honour. 



chap, i.xi WHAT THE MACHINE HAS TO DO 95 



The number of places to be filled by election being very 
largo, ordinary citizens will find it hard to form an opinion as 
to the men host qualified for the offices. Their minds will be 
distracted among the multiplicity of places. In large cities 
particularly, where people know little about their neighbours, 
the names o( most candidates will be unknown to them, and 
there will be no materials, except the recommendation of a 
party organization, available for determining the respective 
fitness of the candidates put forward by the several parties. 

Most of the elected officials are poorly paid. Of those above 
enumerated in Ohio, none, not even the governor, receives more 
than $4000 (£800) a year, the majority very much less. The 
duties of most offices require no conspicuous ability, but can 
be discharged by any honest man of good sense and business 
habits. Hence they will not (unless where they carry large 
fees or important patronage) be sought by persons of ability 
and energy, because such persons can do better for themselves 
in private business ; it will be hard to say which of the many 
candidates is the best; the selection will rouse little stir among 
the people at large. 

Those who have had experience of public meetings know that 
to make them go off well, it is as desirable to have the proceed- 
ings prearranged as it is to have a play rehearsed. You must 
select beforehand not only your chairman, but also your 
speakers. Your resolutions must be ready framed; }*ou must 
be prepared to meet the case of an adverse resolution or hostile 
amendment. This is still more advisable where the meeting 
is intended to transact some business, instead of merely express- 
ing its opinion ; and when certain persons are to be selected 
for any duty, prearrangement becomes not merely convenient 
but indispensable in the interests of the meeting itself, and of 
the business which it has to dispatch. " Does not prearrange- 
ment practically curtail the freedom of the meeting? " Cer- 
tainly it does. But the alternative is confusion and a hasty 
unconsidered decision. Crowds need to be led; if you do not 
lead them they will go astray, will follow the most plausible 
speaker, will break into fractions and accomplish nothing. 
Hence if a primary is to discharge properly its function of 
selecting candidates for office or a number of delegates to a 
nominating convention, it is necessary to have a list of candi- 



96 THE PARTY SYSTEM part hi 

dates or delegates settled beforehand. And for the reasons 
already given, the more numerous the offices and the delegates, 
and the less interesting the duties they have to discharge, so 
much the more necessary is it to have such lists settled; and 
so much the more likely to be accepted by those present is the 
list proposed. 

The reasons have already been stated which make the list of 
candidates put forth by a primary or by a nominating conven- 
tion carry great weight with the voters. They are the chosen 
standard-bearers of the party. A European may remark that 
the citizens are not bound by the nomination ; they may still 
vote for whom they will. If a bad candidate is nominated, he 
may be passed over. That is easy enough where, as in Eng- 
land, there are only one or two offices to be filled at an election, 
where these few offices are important enough to excite general 
interest, and where therefore the candidates are likely to be 
men of mark. But in America the offices are numerous, they 
are mostly unimportant, and the candidates are usually obscure. 
Accordingly guidance is welcome, and the party as a whole 
votes for the person who receives the party nomination from 
the organization authorized to express the party view. Hence 
the high importance attached to "getting the nomination"; 
hence the care bestowed on constructing the nominating ma- 
chinery ; hence the need for prearranging the lists of delegates 
to be submitted to the primary, and of candidates to come 
before the convention. 

I have sought in these chapters firstly to state how the 
nominating machine is constituted, and what work it has to 
do, then to suggest some of the consequences which the 
quantity and nature of that work may be expected to entail. 
We may now go on to see how in practice the work turns out 
to be done. 



CHAPTER LXII 

HOW THE MACHINE WORKS 

Nothing seems fairer or more conformable to the genius of 
democratic institutions than the system I have described, 
whereby the choice of party candidates for office is vested in 
the mass of the party itself. A plan which selects the can- 
didate likely to command the greatest support is calculated 
to prevent the dissension and consequent waste of strength 
which the appearance of rival candidates of the same party 
involves; while the popular character of that method excludes 
the dictation of a clique, and recognizes the sovereignty of the 
people. It is a method simple, uniform, and agreeable 
throughout to its leading principle. 

To understand how it actually works one must distinguish 
between two kinds of constituencies or voting areas. One 
kind is to be found in the great cities — places whose popula- 
tion exceeds, speaking roughly, 100,000 souls, of which there 
are more than thirty in the Union. The other kind includes 
constituencies in small cities and rural districts. What I 
have to say will refer chiefly to the Northern States — i.e. the 
former Free States, because the phenomena of the Southern 
States are still exceptional, owing to the vast population of 
ignorant negroes, among whom the whites, or rather the better 
sort of whites, still stand as an aristocracy. 

The tests by which one may try the results of the system of 
selecting candidates are two. Is the choice of candidates for 
office really free — i.e. does it represent the unbiassed wish 
and mind of the voters generally? Are the offices filled by 
men of probity and capacity sufficient for the duties? 

In the country generally, i.e. in the rural districts and 
small cities, both these tests are tolerably well satisfied. It 
is true that many of the voters do not attend the primaries. 
vol. u h 97 



98 THE PARTY SYSTEM part hi 

The selection of delegates and candidates is left to be made 
by that section of the population which chiefly interests itself 
in politics ; and in this section local attorneys and office-seekers 
have much influence. The persons who seek the post of dele- 
gate, as well as those who seek office, are seldom the most 
energetic and intelligent citizens; but that is because such 
men have something better to do. An observer from Europe 
who looks to see men of rank and culture holding the same 
place in State and local government as they do in England, 
especially rural England, or in Italy, or even in parts of rural 
France and Switzerland, will be disappointed. But democra- 
cies must be democratic. Equality will have its perfect work; 
and you cannot expect citizens pervaded by its spirit to go cap 
in hand to their richer neighbours begging them to act as dele- 
gates, or city or county officials, or congressmen. This much 
may be said, that although there is in America no difference 
of rank in the European sense, superior wealth or intelligence 
does not prejudice a man's candidature, and in most places 
improves its chance. If such men are not commonly chosen 
it is for the same reason which makes them comparatively 
scarce among the town-councillors of English municipalities. 

In these primaries and conventions the business is always 
prearranged — that is to say, the local party committee come 
prepared with their list of delegates or candidates. This list 
is usually, but not invariably, accepted : or if serious opposi- 
tion appears, alterations may be made to disarm it, and pre- 
serve the unity of the party. The delegates and candidates 
chosen are generally the members of the local committee, their 
friends or creatures. Except in very small places, they are 
rarely the best men. But neither are they the worst. In 
moderately-sized communities men's characters are known and 
the presence of a bad man in office brings on his fellow-citizens 
evils which they are not too numerous to feel individually. 
Hence tolerable nominations are made, the general sentiment 
of the locality is not outraged; and although the nominating 
machinery is worked rather in the name of the people than by 
the people, the people are willing to have it so, knowing that 
they can interfere if necessary to prevent serious harm'. 

In large cities the results are different because the circum- 
stances are different. We find there, besides the conditions 



chap.lxii HOW THE MACHINE WORKS 99 

previously enumerated, viz. numerous offices, frequent elec- 
tions, universal suffrage, an absence of stimulating issues, 
three others of great moment — 

A vast population of ignorant immigrants. 

The leading men all intensely occupied with business. 

Communities so large that people know little of one another, 
and that the interest of eaeli individual in good government is 
comparatively small. 

Any one ran see how these conditions affect the problem. 
The immigrants vote, that is, they obtain votes after three or 
four years' residence at most (often less), but they are not lit 
for the suffrage. 1 They know nothing of the institutions of 
the country, of its statesmen, of its political issues. Neither 
from Central Europe nor from Ireland do they bring much 
knowledge of the methods of free government, and from Ire- 
land they bring a suspicion of all government. Incompetent 
to give an intelligent vote, but soon finding that their vote has 
a value, the}' fall into the hands of the party organizations, 
whose officers enrol them in their lists, and undertake to fetch 
them to the polls. I was taken to watch the process of citizen- 
making in Xew York. Droves of squalid men, who looked 
as if the}* had just emerged from an emigrant ship, and had 
perhaps done so only a few weeks before, for the law prescrib- 
ing a certain term of residence is frequently violated, were 
brought up to a magistrate by the ward agent of the party 
which had captured them, declared their allegiance to the 
United States, and were forthwith placed on the roll. 2 Such 
a sacrifice of common sense to abstract principles has seldom 
been made by any country. Xobody pretends that such per- 
sons are fit for civic duty, or will be dangerous if kept for a 
time in pupilage, but neither party will incur the odium of pro- 

1 Federal law prescribes a residence of five years as the prerequisite for 
naturalization, but the laws of not a few Western States enable a vote to be 
acquired in a shorter term by one who is not a United States citizen. See 
Chapter XXVIII. ante. And in some States, persons who have not completed 
their five years are often fraudulently naturalized. 

2 It is even alleged that many of the immigrants (especially Italians) 
brought over to be employed on railroad making and other similar works 
come under what are virtually contracts to cast their votes in a particular 
way. and do so cast them, possibly returning to Europe after some months <>r 
years, richer by the payment they have received for their votes as well as for 
their labour. 



100 THE PARTY SYSTEM part hi 

posing to exclude them. The real reason for admitting them, 
besides democratic theory, was that the party which ruled New 
York expected to gain their votes. 1 It is an afterthought to 
argue that they will sooner become good citizens by being 
immediately made full citizens. A stranger must not presume 
to say that the Americans have been imprudent, but he may 
doubt whether the possible ultimate gain compensates the 
direct and unquestionable mischief. 

In these great transatlantic cities,, population is far less 
settled and permanent than in the cities of Europe. In New 
York, Brooklyn, Chicago, St. Louis, San Francisco, a very 
small part of the inhabitants are natives of the city, or have 
resided in it for twenty years. Hence they know but little 
of one another, or even of those who would in Europe be called 
the leading men. There are scarcely any old families, fami- 
lies associated with the city, 2 whose name recommends one of 
their scions to the confidence of his fellow-citizens. There 
are few persons who have had any chance of becoming gener- 
ally known, except through their wealth; and the wealthy 
have neither time nor taste for political work. Political work 
is a bigger and heavier affair than in small communities : hence 
ordinary citizens cannot attend to it in addition to their regu- 
lar business. Moreover, the population is so large that an in- 
dividual citizen feels himself a drop in the ocean. His power 
of affecting public affairs by his own intervention seems insig- 
nificant. His pecuniary loss through over-taxation, or job- 
bery, or malversation, is trivial in comparison with the trouble 
of trying to prevent such evils. 

As party machinery is in great cities most easily perverted, 
so the temptation to pervert it is there strongest, because the 
prizes are great. The offices are well paid, the patronage is 
large, the opportunities for jobs, commissions on contracts, 
pickings, and even stealings, are enormous. Hence it is well 
worth the while of unscrupulous men to gain control of the 
machinery by which these prizes may be won. 3 

1 At one time a speedy admission to citizenship was adopted as an induce- 
ment to immigrants; but this motive has ceased to have force in most States. 

2 In New York and Boston a few such families still exist, but their mem- 
bers do not often enter "politics." 

3 Although what is here stated is generally true of Machines in large cities, 
there may be, even in such cities, districts inhabited by well-to-do people, in 



ohap. lxii HOW THE MACHINE WORKS 101 

Snob men, the professional politicians of the great oities, 
have two objects in view. One is to seize the local <-ii\ and 
county offices. A great city o\' course controls the county in 

which it is situate. The other is so to command the local party 

vote as to make good terms with the party managers of the 
State, ami get from them a share in State offices, together with 

such legislation as is desired from the State legislature, and 
similarly to make good terms with the Federal party managers, 
thus securing a share in Federal offices, and the means of in- 
fluencing legislation in Congress. How do the city profession- 
als move towards these objects? 

There are two stages in an election campaign. The first is 
to nominate the candidates yon desire: the second to carry 
them at the polls. The first of these is often the more impor- 
tant, because in many cities the party majority inclines so 
decidedly one way or the other (e.g. New York City is steadily 
Democratic, Philadelphia Kepublican), that nomination is in 
the case of the dominant party equivalent to election. Now 
to nominate your candidates you must, above all things, secure 
the primaries. They require and deserve unsparing exertion, 
for everything turns upon them. 

The first thing is to have the kind of primary you want. 
Xow the composition of a primary is determined by the roll or 
" check list, " as it is called, of ward voters entitled to appear 
in it. This is prepared by the managing committee of the 
ward, who are naturally desirous to have on it only such men 
as they can trust or control. They are aided in securing this 
by the rules requiring members to be admitted by the votes 
of those already on the list, and exacting from persons admitted 
a pledge to obey the committee, and abide by the party nomi- 
nations. 1 Men of independent temper often refuse this pledge, 

which the political organizations, being composed of men of good character 
and standing, are honestly worked. The so-called " brown-stone districts" 
in New York City have, I believe, good Machines. 

1 The rules of the Tammany Hall (Democratic) organization in New York 
City have, for many years past, made the consent of a majority of the mem- 
bers of each primary necessary to the admission of a new member. A similar 
system seems to have been adopted by the Republican party in that city. " The 
organization of the twenty-four Republican primaries (one for eacli Assembly 
district) is as complicated, and the access to membership as difficult, as that 
of any private club. Tin- name of the applicant mnsl be quoted <>n a bulletin, 
and there stand until the next monthly meeting before it can even u" to 



102 THE PARTY SYSTEM part ni 

and are excluded. Many of the ward voters do not apply for 
admission. Of those who do apply and take the pledge, some 
can be plausibly rejected by the primary on the ground that 
they have on some recent occasion failed to vote the party 
ticket. Thus it is easy for an active committee to obtain a 
subservient primary, composed of persons in sympathy with 
it or obedient to it. In point of fact the rolls of membership 
of many primaries are largely bogus rolls. Names of former 
members are kept on when these men have left the district or 
died : names are put on of men who do not belong to the dis- 
trict at all, and both sets of names are so much " voting stock, " 
applicable at the will and needs of the local party managers, 
who can admit the latter to vote, and " recognize men " person- 
ating the former. In fact, their control of the lists enables 
them to have practically whatever primary they desire. 1 

the committee on admissions. If favourably reported, it must yet gain a 
majority of those present at a monthly meeting of the primary ; a result quite 
problematical, if the pliant obedience of the candidate is not made clear, or if 
he is not a member of the faction, or the follower of the boss dominant in his 
primary; and his application must be to the primary of his district. If he 
secures a majority he must yet not only take in substance the old Tammany 
pledge, ' to obey all orders of the general committee ' (whose action is secret), 
and ' to support all nominations approved by that committee,' but he must 
also bind himself not to join any organization which does not recognize the 
authority of the primary association he seeks to join! This is of course 
intended to prevent all movements for reform. If elected, he may at any 
time be expelled by a majority of the members at any meeting of the associa- 
tion, if he is held to have violated any of those pledges. After an expulsion 
he can get back only by a vote of the primary." Mr. D. B. Eaton, in Amer. 
Cyclop, of Polit. Science, art. "Primary Elections." The Republicans have, 
however, within the last eight years reformed their system. 

1 In 1880 it was computed that out of 58,000 Republican voters in New 
York City not more tban 6000, or 8000 at the most, were members of the 
Republican organization , and entitled to vote in a primary. 

The numbers present in a primary are sometimes very small. " At the last 
Republican primaries in New York City only 8 per cent of the Republican 
electors took part. In only eight out of twenty-four districts did the percent- 
age exceed 10, in some it was as low as 2 per cent. In the Twenty-first As- 
sembly District Tammany Primary, 116 delegates, to choose an Assembly 
candidate, were elected by less than fifty voters. In the Sixth Assembly 
District County Democracy Primary, less than 7 per cent of the Democratic 
voters took part, and of those who did, sixty-nine in number, nearly one- 
fourth were election officers. The primary was held in a careless way in a 
saloon while card-playing was going on." — Mr. A. C. Bernheim, in Pol. Science 
Quarterly for March 1888. 

A trustworthy correspondent writes to me from Philadelphia (1891) , " There 
is probably an average of 150 Republican voters to an election district. The 



ohap.lxii BOW THE MACHINE WORKS 108 

The next thing is to gel the delegates chosen whom you wish 
for. The committee when it summons the primary settles in 
seeret conclave the names of the delegates to be proposed, of 
course selecting men it can trust, particularly office-holders 
bound to the party which lias put them in. and "workers" 

whom the prospect of office will keep faithful. When the 

meeting assembles a chairman is suggested by the committee 
and usually accepted. Then the list of delegates, which the 
committee has broughl down cut and dry, is put forward. If 
the meeting is entirely composed of professionals, office- 
holders, and their friends, it is accepted without debate. If 
opponents are present, they may propose other names, but the 
official majority is almost always sufficient to carry the offi- 
cial list, and the chairman is prepared to exert, in favour of 
his friends, his power of ruling points of order. In extreme 
cases a disturbance will be got up, in the midst of which the 
chairman may plausibly declare the official list carried, or the 
meeting is adjourned in the hope that. the opposition will not 
be at the trouble of coming next time, a hope likely to be real- 
ized, if the opposition consists of respectable citizens who 
dislike spending an evening in such company. Sometimes 
the professionals will bring in roughs from other districts to 
shout down such opponents, and if necessary threaten them. 
One way or another the " regular " list of delegates is almost 
invariably carried against the "good citizens." When how- 
ever there are two hostile factions of professionals, each anx- 
ious to secure nominations for its friends, the struggle is 
sharper and its issue more doubtful. Fraud is likely to be 
used on both sides; and fraud often provokes violence. 1 It is 
a significant illustration of the difference between the party 

average attendance at primaries is said to be about 12, which is approximately 
the number of party servants necessary to manage the meeting under party 
rules." 

1 For a remarkable recent instance in Baltimore see the report of United 
States Civil Service Commissioner Roosevelt to the President, May 1, 1891. 
"Pudding ballots " (composed <>t' six or seven ballots folded together as if one) 
were profusely used at these primary elections in the various wards of Balti- 
more. One of the witnesses examined, an employe of the Custom House, testified 
as follows : ' " Each side cheats as much as it can in the primaries. Whoever gets 
two judges wins. I do just the same as they do. They had two judges." . . . 
Q. " How do you do your cheating? " A. " Well, we do our cheating honour- 
ably. If they catch us at it, it's all right: it's fair. I even carried the box 
home with me on one occasion ... I have broken up more than one election." 



i04 THE PARTY SYSTEM part hi 

system in America and Europe that in the former foul play 
is quite as likely, and violence more likely, to occur at party 
nominating meetings than in the actual elections where two 
opposing parties are confronted. 

The scene now shifts to the Nominating Convention, which 
is also summoned by the appropriate committee. When it is 
" called to order " a temporary chairman is installed, the im- 
portance of whose position consists in his having (usually) the 
naming of a committee on credentials, or contested seats, which 
examines the titles of the delegates from the various primaries 
to vote in the convention. Being himself in the interest of 
the professionals, he names a committee in their interest, and 
this committee does what it can to exclude delegates who are 
suspected of an intention to oppose the candidates whom the 
professionals have prearranged. The primaries have almost 
always been so carefully packed, and so skilfully "run," that 
a majority of trusty delegates has been secured; but some 
times a few primaries have sent delegates belonging to another 
faction of the party, or" to some independent section of the 
party, and then there may be trouble. Occasionally two sets 
of delegates appear, each claiming to represent their primary. 
The dispute generally ends by the exclusion of the Indepen- 
dents or of the hostile faction, the committee discovering a 
flaw in their credentials, but sometimes, though rarely, the 
case is so clear that they must be admitted. In doubtful cases 
a partisan chairman is valuable, for, as it is expressed, "he 
is a solid 8 to 7 man all the time." When the credentials have 
been examined the convention is deemed to be duly organized, 
a permanent chairman is appointed, and the business of nomi- 
nating candidates proceeds. A spokesman of the professionals 
proposes A. B. in a speech, dwelling on his services to the 
party. If the convention has been properly packed, he is 
nominated by acclamation. If there be a rival faction repre- 
sented, or if independent citizens who dislike him have been 
sent up by some primary which the professionals have failed 
to secure, another candidate is proposed and a vote taken. 
Here also there is often room for a partial chairman to influ- 
ence the result ; here, as in the primary, a tumult or a hocus 
pocus may in extreme cases be got up to enable the chairman 
to decide in favour of his allies. 



ouimmi BOW Till- MACHINE WORKS 105 

Americans are, however, so well versed in the rules which 
govern public meetings, and so prepared to encounter all sorts 
of tricks, that the managers do not consider success certain 
unless they have a majority behind them. This they almost 
certainly have; at least it reflects discredit on their handling 
of the primaries if they have not. The chief hope of an 
opposition therefore is not to carry its own candidate but so 
to frighten the professionals as to make them abandon theirs, 
and substitute some less objectionable name. The candidate 
chosen, who, ninety-nine times out of a hundred, is the person 
predetermined by the managers, becomes the party nominee, 
entitled to the support of the whole party. He has received 
"the regular nomination." If there are other offices whereto 
nominations have to be made, the convention goes on to these, 
which being despatched, it adjourns and disappears for ever. 

I once witnessed such a convention, a State convention, held 
at Rochester, X.Y., by the Democrats of New York State, at 
that time under the control of the Tammany King of New 
York City. The most prominent figure was the famous Mr. 
William M. Tweed, then in the zenith of his power. There 
was, however, little or nothing in the public proceedings from 
which an observer could learn anything of the subterranean 
forces at work. During the morning, a tremendous coming 
and going and chattering and clattering of crowds of men who 
looked at once sordid and flashy, faces shrewd but mean and 
sometimes brutal, vulgar figures in good coats forming into 
small groups and talking eagerly, and then dissolving to form 
fresh groups, a universal camaraderie, with no touch of friend- 
ship about it; something between a betting-ring and the flags 
outside the Liverpool Exchange. It reminded one of the 
swarming of bees in tree boughs, a ceaseless humming and 
buzzing which betokens immense excitement over proceedings 
which the bystander does not comprehend. After some hours 
all this settled down; the meeting was duly organized; 
speeches were made, all dull and thinly declamatory, except 
one by an eloquent Irishman; the candidates for State offices 
were proposed and carried by acclamation; and the business 
ended. Everything had evidently been prearranged; and the 
discontented, if any there were, had been talked over during 
the swarming hours. 



10G THE PARTY SYSTEM part hi 

After each of the greater conventions it is usual to hold one 
or more public gatherings, at which the candidates chosen are 
solemnly adopted by the crowd present, and rousing speeches 
are delivered. Such a gathering, called a " ratification " 
meeting, has no practical importance, being attended only by 
those prepared to support the nominations made. The candi- 
date is now launched, and what remains is to win the election. 

The above may be thought, as it is thought by many Ameri- 
cans, a travesty of popular choice. Observing the form of 
consulting the voters, it substantially ignores them, and forces 
on them persons whom they do not know, and would dislike if 
they knew them. It substitutes for the party voters generally 
a small number of professionals and their creatures, extracts 
prearranged nominations from packed meetings, and calls this 
consulting the pleasure of the sovereign people. 

Yet every feature of the Machine is the result of patent 
causes. The elective offices are so numerous that ordinary 
citizens cannot watch them, and cease to care who gets them. 
The conventions come so often that busy men cannot serve in 
them. The minor offices are so unattractive that able men do 
not stand for them. The primary lists are so contrived that 
only a fraction of the party get on them ; and of this fraction 
many are too lazy or too busy or too careless to attend. The 
mass of the voters are ignorant; knowing nothing about the 
personal merits of the candidates, they are ready to follow their 
leaders like sheep. Even the better class, however they may 
grumble, are swayed by the inveterate habit of party loyalty, 
and prefer a bad candidate of their own party to a (probably 
no better) candidate of the other party. It is less trouble to 
put up with impure officials, costly city government, a jobbing 
State legislature, an inferior sort of congressman, than to sac- 
rifice one's own business in the effort to set things right. Thus 
the Machine works on, and grinds out places, power, and oppor- 
tunities for illicit gain to those who manage it. 



CHAPTER LXIII 

RINGS AXD BOSSES 

This is the external aspect of the Machine ; these the phe- 
nomena which a visitor taken round to see a number of 
Primaries and Nominating Conventions would record. But 
the reader will ask. How is the Machine run? What are the 
inner springs that move it? What is the source of the power 
the committees wield? What force of cohesion keeps leaders 
and followers together? What kind of government prevails 
among this army of professional politicians? 

The source of power and the cohesive force is the desire for 
office, and for office as a means of gain. This one cause is 
sufficient to account for everything, when it acts, as it does in 
these cities, under the condition of the suffrage of a host of 
ignorant and pliable voters. 

Those who in great cities form the committees and work the 
Machine are persons whose chief aim in life is to make their 
living by office. Such a man generally begins by acquiring 
influence among a knot of voters who live in his neighbour- 
hood, or work under the same employer, or frequent the same 
grog-shop or beer saloon, which perhaps he keeps himself. He 
becomes a member of his primary, attends regularly, attaches 
himself to some leader in that body, and is forward to render 
service by voting as his leader wishes, and by doing duty at 
elections. He has entered the large and active class called, 
technically, "workers," or more affectionately, "'the Boys." 
Soon he becomes conspicuous in the primary, being recognized 
as controlling the votes of others — "owning them" is the 
technical term — and is chosen delegate to a convention. 
Loyalty to the party there and continued service at elections 
mark him out for further promotion. He is appointed to some 

107 



108 THE PARTY SYSTEM part hi 

petty office in one of the city departments, and presently is 
himself nominated for an elective office. By this time he has 
also found his way on to the ward committee, whence by degrees 
he rises to sit on the central committee, having carefully nursed 
his local connection and surrounded himself with a band of 
adherents, who are called his "heelers," and whose loyalty to 
him in the primary, secured by the hope of "something good," 
gives weight to his words. Once a member of the central 
committee he discovers what everybody who comes to the 
front discovers sooner or later, by how few persons the world 
is governed. He is one of a small knot of persons who pull 
the wires for the whole city, controlling the primaries, select- 
ing candidates, "running" conventions, organizing elections, 
treating on behalf of the party in the city with the leaders of 
the party in the State. Each of this knot, which is probably 
smaller than the committee, because every committee includes 
some ciphers put on to support a leader, and which may include 
one or two strong men not on the committee, has acquired in 
his upward course a knowledge of men and their weaknesses, a 
familiarity with the wheels, shafts, and bands of the party 
machine, together with a skill in working it. Each can com- 
mand some primaries, each has attached to himself a group of 
dependants who owe some place to him, or hope for some place 
from him. The aim of the knot is not only to get good posts 
for themselves, but to rivet their yoke upon the city by gar- 
risoning the departments with their own creatures, and so 
controlling elections to the State legislature that they can 
procure such statutes as they desire, and prevent the passing 
of statutes likely to expose or injure them. They cement their 
dominion by combination, each placing his influence at the 
disposal of the others, and settle all important measures in 
secret conclave. 

Such a combination is called a Ring. 

The power of such a combination is immense, for it ramifies 
over the whole city. There are, in New York City, for instance, 
over ten thousand persons employed by the city authorities, 
all dismissible by their superiors at short notice and without 
cause assigned. There are over three thousand persons em- 
ployed in the Custom-House, Post-Office, and other branches 
of the Federal service, most of whom are similarly dismissible 



chap, i xin RINGS AND BOSSES 109 

by the proper Federal authority; and there are also State 
servants, responsible to and dismissible by the State authority. 
If the same party happens to be supreme in city politics, in the 
Federal government, and in the State government, all this 
army of employes is expected to work for the party leaders of 
the city, in city primaries, conventions, and elections, and is 
virtually amenable to the orders of these leaders. 1 If the 
other party holds the reins of Federal government, or of both 
the Federal government and State government, then the city 
wirepullers have at any rate their own ten thousand or more, 
while other thousands swell the army of " workers " for the 
opposite party. Add those who expect to get offices, and it 
will be seen how great and how disciplined a force is avail- 
able to garrison the city and how effective it becomes under 
strict discipline. Yet it is not larger than is needed, for the 
work is heavy. Tantae molis erat Romanam condere gentem. 

In a King there is usually some one person who holds more 
strings in his hand than do the others. Like them he has 
worked himself up to power from small beginnings, gradually 
extending the range of his influence over the mass of workers, 
and knitting close bonds with influential men outside as well 
as inside politics, perhaps with great financiers or railway 
magnates, whom he can oblige, and who can furnish him with 
funds. At length his superior skill, courage, and force of will 
make him, as such gifts always do make their possessor, domi- 
nant among his fellows. An army led by a council seldom 
conquers: it must have a commander-in-chief, who settles 
disputes, decides in emergencies, inspires fear or attachment. 
The head of the King is such a commander. He dispenses 
places, rewards the loyal, punishes the mutinous, concocts 
schemes, negotiates treaties. He generally avoids publicity, 
preferring the substance to the pomp of power, and is all the 
more dangerous because he sits, like a spicier, hidden in the 
midst of his web. He is a Boss. 

Although the career I have sketched is that whereby most 
Bosses have risen to greatness, some attain it by a shorter path. 
There have been brilliant instances of persons stepping at once 
on to the higher rungs of the ladder in virtue of their audacity 

1 Assuming, as one usually may, that the city leaders are on good terms 
with the Federal and State party managers. 



110 THE PARTY SYSTEM part hi 

and energy, especially if coupled with oratorical power. The 
first theatre of such a man's successes may have been the stump 
rather than the primary : he will then become potent in con- 
ventions, and either by hectoring or by plausible address, for 
both have their value, spring into popular favour, and make 
himself necessary to the party managers. It is of course a gain 
to a Ring to have among them a man of popular gifts, because 
he helps to conceal the odious features of their rule, gilding it 
by his rhetoric, and winning the applause of the masses who 
stand outside the circle of workers. However, the position of 
the rhetorical boss is less firmly rooted than that of the intrigu- 
ing boss, and there have been instances of his suddenly falling 
to rise no more. 

A great city is the best soil for the growth of a Boss, because 
it contains the largest masses of manageable voters as well as 
numerous offices and plentiful opportunities for jobbing. But 
a whole State sometimes falls under the dominion of one 
intriguer. To govern so large a territory needs high abilities ; 
and the State boss is always an able man, somewhat more of a 
politician, in the European sense, than a city boss need be. 
He dictates State nominations, and through his lieutenants 
controls State and sometimes Congressional conventions, being 
in diplomatic relations with the chief city bosses and local 
rings in different parts of the State. His power over them 
mainly springs from his influence with the Federal executive 
and in Congress. He is usually, almost necessarily, a member 
of Congress, probably a senator, and can procure, or at any rate 
can hinder, such legislation as the local leaders desire or dis- 
like. The President cannot ignore him, and the President's 
ministers, however little they may like him, find it worth 
while to gratify him with Federal appointments for persons he 
recommends, because the local votes he controls may make all 
the difference to their own prospects of getting some day a 
nomination for the presidency. Thus he uses his Congressional 
position to secure State influence, and his State influence to 
strengthen his Federal position. Sometimes however he is 
rebuffed by the powers at Washington and then his State thanes 
fly from him. Sometimes he quarrels with a powerful city 
boss, and then honest men come by their own. 

It must not be supposed that the members of Rings, or the 



CHAi-. i.xm RINGS AND BOSSES 111 

great Boss himself, are wicked men. They are the offspring 
of a system. Their morality is that of their surroundings. 
They see a door open to wealth and power, and they walk in. 

The obligations of patriotism or duty to the public are not 
disregarded by them, for these obligations have never been 
present to their minds. A State boss is usually a native 
American and a person of some education, who avoids the 
- r forms of corruption, though he has to wink at them 
when practised by his friends. He may be a man of personal 
integrity. 1 A city boss is often of foreign birth and humble 
origin; he has grown up in an atmosphere of oaths and cock- 
tails : ideas of honour and purity are as strange to him as ideas 
about the nature of the currency and the incidence of taxation : 
politics is merely a means for getting and distributing places. 
""What," said an ingenuous delegate at one of the National 
Conventions at Chicago in 1880, "what are we here for except 
the offices? " It is no wonder if he helps himself from the city 
treasury and allows his minions to do so. Sometimes he does 
not rob, and, like Clive, wonders at his own moderation. And 
even the city Boss improves as he rises in the world. Like a tree 
growing out of a dust heap, the higher he gets, the cleaner do 
his boughs and leaves become. America is a country where 
vulgarity is scaled off more easily than in England, and where 
the general air of good nature softens the asperities of power. 
Some city bosses are men from whose decorous exterior and 
unobtrusive manners no one would divine either their sordid 
beginnings or their noxious trade. As for the State boss, whose 
talents are probably greater to begin with, he must be of very 
coarse metal if he does not take a certain polish from the 
society of Washington. 

A city Bing works somewhat as follows. When the annual 
or biennial city or State elections come round, its members 
meet to discuss the apportionment of offices. Each may desire 
something for himself, unless indeed he is already fully pro- 
vided for, and anyhow desires something for his friends. The 
common sort are provided for with small places in the gift of 
some official, down to the place of a policeman or doorkeeper 
or messenger, which is thought good enough for a common 

1 So too a rural boss is often quite pure, and blameworthy rather for his 
intriguing methods than for his aims. 



112 THE PARTY SYSTEM part hi 

" ward worker." Better men receive clerkships or the promise 
of a place in the custom-house or post-office to be obtained from 
the Federal authorities. Men still more important aspire to 
the elective posts, seats in the State legislature, a city alder- 
manship or commissionership, perhaps even a seat in Congress. 
All the posts that will have to be filled at the coming elections 
are considered with the object of bringing out a party ticket, 
i.e. a list of candidates to be supported by the party at the 
polls when its various nominations have been successfully run 
through the proper conventions. Some leading man, or prob- 
ably the Boss himself, sketches out an allotment of places ; and 
when this allotment has been worked out fully, it results in a 
Slate, i.e. a complete draft list of candidates to be proposed for 
the various offices. 1 It may happen that the slate does not 
meet everybody's wishes. Some member of the ring or some 
local boss — most members of a ring are bosses each in his own 
district, as the members of a cabinet are heads of the depart- 
ments of state, or as the cardinals are bishops of dioceses near 
Rome and priests and deacons of her parish churches — may 
complain that he and his friends have not been adequately 
provided for, and may demand more. In that case the slate 
will probably be modified a little to ensure good feeling and 
content; and will then be presented to the Convention. 

But there is sometimes a more serious difficulty to surmount. 
A party in a State or city may be divided into two or more 
factions. Success in the election will be possible only by unit- 
ing these factions upon the same nominees for office. Occa- 
sionally the factions may each make its list and then come 
together in the party convention to fight out their differ- 
ences. But the more prudent course is for the chiefs to ar- 
range matters in a private conference. Each comes wishing 
to get the most he can for his clansmen, but feels the need for 
a compromise. By a process of "dickering " (i.e. bargaining 

1 A pleasant story is told of a former Boss of New York State, who sat with 
his vassals just before the convention, preparing the Slate. There were half 
a dozen or more State offices for which nominations were to be made. The 
names were with deliberation selected and set down, with the exception of 
the very unimportant place of State Prison Inspector. One of his subordi- 
nates ventured to call the attention of the Boss to what he supposed to be an 
inadvertence, and asked who was to be the man for that place, to which the 
great man answered, with an indulgent smile, " I guess we will leave that to 
the convention." 



chap, lxih RINGS AND BOSSES 113 

byway of barter), various offers and suggestions being made 
all round, a list is settled on which the high contracting parties 
agree. This is a Deal, or Trade, a treaty which terminates 
hostilities for the time, and brings about "harmony." The 
list so settled is now a Slate, unless some discontented magnate 
objects and threatens to withdraw. To do so is called "break- 
ing the slate." If such a "sore-head" persists, a schism may 
follow, with horrible disaster to the party; but usually a new 
slate is prepared and finally agreed upon. The accepted Slate 
is now ready to be turned by the Machine into a Ticket, and 
nothing further remains but the comparatively easy process of 
getting the proper delegates chosen by packed primaries, and 
running the various parts of the ticket through the conventions 
to which the respective nominations belong. Internal dissen- 
sion among the chiefs is the one great danger; the party must 
at all hazards be kept together, for the power of a united party 
is enormous. It has not only a large but a thoroughly trained 
and disciplined army in its office-holders and office-seekers; 
and it can concentrate its force upon any point w T here opposition 
is threatened to the regular party nominations. 1 All these 
office-holders and office-seekers have not only the spirit of 
self-interest to rouse them, but the bridle of fear to check any 
stirrings of independence. Discipline is very strict in this 
army. Even city politicians must have a moral code and moral 
standard. It is not the code of an ordinary unprofessional 
citizen. It does not forbid falsehood, or malversation, or ballot 
stuffing, or "repeating." But it denounces apathy or coward- 
ice, disobedience, and above all, treason to the party. Its 
typical virtue is "solidity," unity of heart, mind, and effort 
among the workers, unquestioning loyalty to the party leaders, 
and devotion to the party ticket. He who takes his own course 
is a Kicker or Bolter; and is punished not only sternly but 
vindictively. The path of promotion is closed to him ; he is 
turned out of the primary, and forbidden to hope for a delegacy 
to a convention; he is dismissed from any office he holds which 
the Ring can command. Dark stories are even told of a secret 
police which will pursue the culprit who has betrayed his party, 

1 As for instance by packing the primaries with its adherents from other 
districts, whom a partisan chairman or committee will suffer to come in and 
vote. 

VOL. II I 



114 THE PARTY SYSTEM part hi 

and of mysterious disappearances of men whose testimony 
against the Ring was feared. Whether there is any founda- 
tion for snch tales I do not undertake to say. But true it is 
that the bond between the party chiefs and their followers is 
very close and very seldom broken. What the client was to 
his patron at Rome, what the vassal was to his lord in the 
Middle Ages, that the heelers and workers are to their boss in 
these great transatlantic cities. They render a personal feudal 
service, which their suzerain repays with the gift of a liveli- 
hood; and the relation is all the more cordial because the lord 
bestows what costs him nothing, while the vassal feels that he 
can keep his post only by the favour of the lord. 

European readers must again be cautioned against drawing 
for themselves too dark a picture of the Boss. He is not a 
demon. He is not regarded with horror even by those " good 
citizens " who strive to shake off his yoke. He is not neces- 
sarily either corrupt or mendacious, though he grasps at place, 
power, and wealth. He is a leader to whom certain peculiar 
social and political conditions have given a character dissimilar 
from the party leaders whom Europe knows. It is worth while 
to point out in what the dissimilarity consists. 

A Boss needs fewer showy gifts than a European demagogue. 
His special theatre is neither the halls of the legislature nor 
the platform, but the committee-room. A power of rough and 
ready repartee, or a turn for florid declamation, will help him ; 
but he can dispense with both. What he needs are the arts of 
intrigue and that knowledge of men which teaches him when 
to bully, when to cajole, whom to attract by the hope of gain, 
whom by appeals to party loyalty. Nor are so-called " social 
gifts " unimportant. The lower sort of city politicians con- 
gregate in clubs and bar-rooms; and as much of the cohesive 
strength of the smaller party organizations arises from their 
being also social bodies, so also much of the power which liquor 
dealers exercise is due to the fact that " heelers " and " workers " 
spend their evenings in drinking places, and that meetings for 
political purposes are held there. Of the 1007 primaries and 
conventions of all parties held in New York City preparatory 
to the elections of 1884, 633 took place in liquor saloons. A 
Boss ought therefore to be hail fellow well met with those who 
frequent these places, not fastidious in his tastes, fond of a 



civ p. i.xm RINGS AND BOSSES 115 

drink and willing to stand one, jovial in manners, and ready 
to oblige even a humble friend. 

The aim of a Boss is not so much fame as power, and power 
not so much over the conduct of affairs as over persons. 
Patronage is what he chiefly seeks, patronage understood in 
the largest sense in which it covers the disposal of lucrative 
contracts and other modes of enrichment as well as salaried 
places. The dependants who surround him desire wealth, or 
at least a livelihood; his business is to find this for them, and 
in doing so he strengthens his own position. 1 It is as the 
bestower of riches that he holds his position, like the leader of 
a band of condottieri in the fifteenth century. 

The interest of a Boss in political questions is usually quite 
secondary. Here and there one may be found who is a poli- 
tician in the European sense, who, whether sincerely or not, 
professes to be interested in some measure affecting the wel- 
fare of the country. But the attachment of the ringster is 
usually given wholly to the concrete party, that is to the men 
who compose it, regarded as office-holders or office-seekers ; and 
there is often not even a profession of zeal for any party doc- 
trine. As a noted politician once happily observed, " There are 
no politics in politics." Among bosses, therefore, there is little 
warmth of party spirit. The typical boss regards the boss of 
the other party much as counsel for the plaintiff regards counsel 
for the defendant. They are professionally opposed, but not 
necessarily personally hostile. Between bosses there need be 
no more enmity than results from the fact that the one has got 
what the other wishes to have. Accordingly it sometimes 
happens that there is a good understanding between the chiefs 
of opposite parties in cities ; they will even go the length of 

1 " A Boss is able to procure positions for many of his henchmen on horse- 
railroads, the elevated roads, quarry works, etc. Great corporations are pecu- 
liarly subject to the attacks of demagogues, and they find it greatly to their 
interest to be on good terms with the leader in each district who controls the 
vote of the assemblyman and alderman ; and therefore the former is pretty 
sure that a letter of recommendation from him on behalf of any applicant for 
work will receive most favourable consideration. The leader also is continually 
helping his supporters out of difficulties, pecuniary and otherwise : he lends 
them a dollar now and then, helps out, when possible, such of their kinsmen 
as get into the clutches of the law, gets a hold over such of them as have done 
wrong and are afraid of being exposed, and learns to mix bullying judiciously 
with the rendering of service." — Mr. Theodore Roosevelt, in the Century 
magazine for Nov. 1886. 



116 THE PAETY SYSTEM part hi 

making a joint "deal," i.e. of arranging for a distribution of 
offices whereby some of the friends of one shall get places, the 
residue being left for the friends of the other. A well-organ- 
ized city party has usually a disposable vote which can be so 
cast under the directions of the managers as to effect this, or 
any other desired result. The appearance of hostility must, 
of course, be maintained for the benefit of the public ; but as 
it is for the interest of both parties to make and keep these 
private bargains, they are usually kept when made, though it is 
seldom possible to prove the fact. 

The real hostility of the Boss is not to the opposite party, 
but to other factions within his own party. Often he has a 
rival leading some other organization, and demanding, in re- 
spect of the votes which that organization controls, a share of 
the good things going. The greatest cities can support more 
than one faction within the same party ; thus New York had 
long three democratic organizations, two of which were power- 
ful and often angrily hostile. If neither can crush the other, 
it finds itself obliged to treat, and to consent to lose part of the 
spoils to its rival. Still more bitter, however, is the hatred of 
Boss and King towards those members of the party who do not 
desire and are not to be appeased by a share of the spoils, but 
who agitate for what they call reform. They are natural and 
permanent enemies; nothing but the extinction of the Boss 
himself and of bossdom altogether will satisfy them. They 
are moreover the common enemies of both parties, that is, of 
bossdom in both parties. Hence in ring-governed cities pro- 
fessionals of both parties will sometimes unite against the 
reformers, or will rather let their opponents secure a place 
than win it for themselves by the help of the "independent 
vote." Devotion to " party government, " as they understand 
it, can hardly go farther. 

This great army of workers is mobilized for elections, the 
methods of which form a wide and instructive department of 
political science. Here I refer only to their financial side, be- 
cause that is intimately connected with the Machine. Elec- 
tions need money, in America a great deal of money. Whence, 
then, does the money come, seeing that the politicians them- 
selves belong to, or emerge from, a needy class? 

The revenues of a Ring, that is, their collective, or, as one 



chap, lxiii RINGS AND BOSSES 117 

may say, corporate revenues, available for party purposes, now 
from five sources. 

I. The first is public subscriptions. For important elections 
such as the biennial elections of State officers, or perhaps for 
that of the State legislature, a " campaign fund," as it is called, 
is raised by an appeal to wealthy members of the party. So 
strong is party feeling that many respond, even though they 
suspect the men who compose the Ring, disapprove its methods, 
and have no great liking for the candidates. 

II. Contributions are sometimes privately obtained from 
rich men who, though not directly connected with the Ring, 
may expect something from its action. Contractors, for in- 
stance, have an interest in getting pieces of work from the city 
authorities. Eailroad men have an interest in preventing State 
legislation hostile to their lines. Both, therefore, may be 
willing to help those who can so effectively help them. This 
source of income is only available for important elections. Its 
incidental mischief in enabling wealth to control a legislature 
through a Ring is serious. 

III. An exceptionally audacious Ring will sometimes make 
a surreptitious appropriation from the city or (more rarely) 
from the State treasury for the purposes not of the city or the 
State, but of its own election funds. It is not thought pru- 
dent to bring such an appropriation 1 into the accounts to be 
laid before the public ; in fact, pains are taken to prevent the 
item from appearing, and the accounts have to be manipulated 
for that purpose. The justification, if any, of conduct not au- 
thorized by the law, must be sought in precedent, in the belief 
that the other side would do the same, and in the benefits 
which the Ring expects to confer upon the city it administers. 
It is a method of course available only when Ring officials 
control the public funds, and cannot be resorted to by an 
opposition. 

IV. A tax is levied upon the office-holders of the party, 
varying from one to four or even five per cent upon the amount 
of their annual salaries. The aggregate annual salaries of the 

1 The practice of taking from Parliament a sum for secret service money, 
which was formerly often applied by the government in power for electioneering 
purposes, was extinguished in England in 1887. A sum is still voted for foreign 
secret service. In England, however, the money was publicly voted each ses- 
sion, and though no account was rendered, it was well understood how it went. 



118 THE PARTY SYSTEM part hi 

city officials in New York City amounted in 1888 to $11,000,000 
and those of the two thousand five hundred Federal officials, 
who, if of the same party, might also be required to contrib- 
ute, 1 to $2,500,000. An assessment at two per cent on these 
amounts would produce over $220,000 and $50,000 respec- 
tively, quite a respectable sum for election expenses in a sin- 
gle city. 2 Even policemen in cities, even office boys and 
workmen in Federal dockyards, have been assessed by their 
party. As a tenant had in the days of feudalism to make 
occasional money payments to his lord in addition to the 
military service he rendered, so now the American vassal must 
render his aids in money as well as give knightly service at 
the primaries, in the canvass, at the polls. His liabilities 
are indeed heavier than those of the feudal tenant, for the 
latter could relieve himself from duty in the field by the pay- 
ment of scutage, while under the Machine a money payment 
never discharges from the obligation to serve in the army of 
"workers." Forfeiture and the being proclaimed as "nith- 
ing," are, as in the days of the Anglo-Norman kings, the pen- 
alty for failure to discharge the duties by which the vassal 
holds. Efforts which began with an order issued by Presi- 
dent Hayes in 1877 applying to Federal offices, have been 
made to prevent by administrative action and by legislation 
the levying of this tribute on officials, but they have not as 
yet proved completely successful, for the subordinate fears to 
offend his superiors. 

V. Another useful expedient might seem to have been bor- 
rowed from European monarchies in the sale of nominations and 
occasionally of offices themselves. 3 A person who seeks to be 
nominated as candidate for one of the more important offices, 
such as a judgeship or a seat in the State Senate, or in Con- 
gress, is often required to contribute to the election fund a sum 
proportioned to the importance of the place he seeks, the excuse 
given for the practice being the cost of elections ; and the same 

1 Federal officials would, as a rule, contribute only to the fund for Federal 
elections ; but when the contest covered both Federal and city offices the funds 
would be apt to be blended. 

2 To make the calculation complete we should have to reckon in also the 
(comparatively few) State officials and assessments payable by them. 

3 As judicial places were sold under the old French monarchy, and commis- 
sions in the army in England till 1872. 



chap, i.xm RINGS AND BOSSES 119 

principle is occasionally applied to the gift of non-elective 
offices, the right of appointing to which is vested in some offi- 
cial member of a King — e.g. a mayor. The price of a nomina- 
tion for a seat in the State legislature is said to run from $500 
up to $1000, and for one of the better judgeships higher than 
$5000; but this is largely matter of conjecture. 1 Of course 
much less will be given if the prospects of carrying the elec- 
tion are doubtful: the prices quoted must be taken to repre- 
sent cases where the large party majority makes success certain. 
Naturally, the salaries of officials have to be raised in order to 
enable them to bear this charge, so that in the long run it may 
be thrown upon the public ; and a recent eminent boss of New 
York City defended, before a committee of the legislature, the 
large salaries paid to aldermen, on the ground that "heavy 
demands were made on them by their party." 2 

1 "A judgeship," says Mr. F. W. "Whitridge, "costs in New York about 
$15,000; the district attorneyship the same; for a nomination to Congress the 
price is about 8-1000, though this is variable; an aldermanic nomination is 
worth $1500, and that for the Assembly from $600 to 81500. The amount 
realized from these assessments cannot be exactly estimated, but the amount 
raised by Tammany Hall, which is the most complete political organization, 
may be fixed very nearly at 8125,000 (£25,000). This amount is collected and 
expended by a small executive committee who keep no accounts and are 
responsible only to each other." — Article " Assessments," in Amer. Cyclop, 
of Political Science. In 1887, the City Chamberlain of New York estimated 
the average minimum assessment levied on a candidate for mayor at 820,000, 
for comptroller at 810,000, for district attorney at 85000. However, in 1887 
the Democratic Rings in New York City demanded 825,000 for the nomination 
to the Comptrollership, and 85000 for that to a State Senatorship. The salary 
of the Comptroller is 810,000 for three years, that of Senator 81500 for two 
years, i.e. the senatorial candidate was expected to pay 82000 more than his 
total salary, a fact suggestive of expectations of gain from some other source. 

2 " Before a committee of the New York legislature the county clerk testi- 
fied that his income was nearly 880,000 a year, but with refreshing frankness 
admitted that his own position was practically that of a figure-head, and that 
all the work was done by his deputy on a small fixed salary. As the county 
clerk's term is three years, he should nominally receive 8240,000, but as a 
matter of fact two-thirds of the money probably goes to the political organ- 
izations with which he is connected." — Mr. T. Roosevelt in Century magazine 
for Nov. 1886. A county officer answered the same committee, when they put 
what was meant to be a formal question as to whether he performed his public 
duties faithfully, that he did so perform them whenever they did not conflict 
with his political duties ! meaning thereby, as he explained, attending to his 
local organizations, seeing politicians, "fixing" primaries, bailing out those 
of his friends who were summoned to appear before a justice of peace, etc. 



CHAPTER LXIV 

LOCAL EXTENSION OF RINGS AND BOSSES 

To determine the extent to which, the Ring and Boss system 
sketched in the preceding chapters prevails over the United 
States would be difficult even for an American, because it 
would require a minute knowledge of the local affairs of all 
the States and cities. Much more, then, is it difficult for a 
European. I can do no more than indicate generally the 
results of the inquiries I have made, commending the details 
of the question to some future investigator. 

It has been pointed out that rings and bosses are the product 
not of democracy, but of a particular form of democratic gov- 
ernment, acting under certain peculiar conditions. They be- 
long to democratic government, as the old logicians would say, 
not simpliciter but secundum quid : they are not of its essence, 
but are merely separable accidents. We have seen that these 
conditions are — 

The existence of a Spoils System (= paid offices given and 

taken away for party reasons). 
Opportunities for illicit gains arising out of the possession 

of office. 
The presence of a mass of ignorant and pliable voters. 
The insufficient participation in politics of the "good 

citizens." 

If these be the true causes or conditions producing the phe- 
nomenon, we may expect to find it most fully developed in the 
places where the conditions exist in fullest measure, less so 
where they are more limited, absent where they do not exist. 

A short examination of the facts will show that such is the 
case. 

120 



chap, lxiv EXTENSION OF RINGS AND BOSSES 121 

It may be thought that the Spoils System is a constant, ex- 
isting everywhere, and therefore not admitting of the applica- 
tion of this method of concomitant variations. That system 
does no doubt prevail over every State of the Union, but it 
is not everywhere an equally potent factor, for in some cities 
the offices are much better paid than in others, and the reve- 
nues which their occupants control are larger. In some small 
communities the offices, or most of them, are not paid at all. 1 
Hence this factor varies scarcely less than the others. 

We may therefore say with truth that all of the four condi- 
tions above named are most fully present in great cities. 
Some of the offices are highly paid; many give facilities for 
lucrative jobbing; and the unpaid officers are sometimes the 
most apt to abuse these facilities. The voters are so numerous 
that a strong and active organization is needed to drill them ; 
the majority so ignorant as to be easily led. The best citizens 
are engrossed in business and cannot give to political work the 
continuous attention it demands. Such are the phenomena of 
Xew York, Philadelphia, Chicago, Brooklyn, St. Louis, Cincin- 
nati, San Francisco, Baltimore, and Xew Orleans. In these 
cities Ring-and-bossdom has attained its amplest growth, over- 
shadowing the whole field of politics. 

Of the first two of these I need not speak in detail here, 
proposing to describe their phenomena in later chapters. 
Chicago, Baltimore, and New Orleans are little if at all 
better. I subjoin some remarks bearing on five other cities, 
with which I was (in 1887) favoured by leading citizens resi- 
dent therein, in reply to interrogatories which I addressed to 
them. Knowing how apt a stranger is to imagine a greater 
uniformity than exists, I am anxious to enable the reader to 
understand to what extent the description I have given is gen- 
erally true, and with what local diversities its general truth is 
compatible. 

Cincinnati (Ohio), population in 1890, 296,908 — 

"Our Ring is in a less formal shape than is sometimes seen, but dis- 
honest men of both parties do in fact combine for common profits at the 
public expense. As regards a Boss, there is at this moment an interreg- 
num, but some ambitious men are observed to be making progress 
towards that dignity. Rings are both the effect and the cause of pecu- 

1 For instance, the " selectmen " of a New England Town are not paid. 



122 THE PARTY SYSTEM part hi 

lation. They are the result of the general law of combination to further 
the interest of the combiners. 

" Where a Ring exists it can always exclude from office a good citizen 
known to be hostile to it. But a good easy man who will not fight and 
will make a reputable figure-head may be an excellent investment. 

"The large cities are the great sufferers from the Spoils System, be- 
cause in them power gives the greatest opportunity for profit and pecula- 
tion. In them also it is easy to make a more or less open combination 
of keepers of tippling shops and the ' bummers,' etc., who congregate in 
them. Here, too, is the natural home of the class of vagabonds who will 
profess devotion to the party or the man who will pay them, and who 
combine to levy blackmail upon every candidate, and in turn are ready 
to stuff ballot-boxes, to buy votes, to ' repeat,' etc. These scoundrels 
' live by politics ' in their way, and force their services upon more promi- 
nent men, till there comes to be a sort of ' solidarity ' in which men of 
national reputation find themselves morally compromised by being 
obliged to recognize this sort of fraternity, and directly or indirectly to 
make themselves responsible for the methods of these ' henchmen ' and 
followers. They dare not break with this class because its enmity would 
defeat their ambitions, and the more unscrupulous of them make fullest 
use of the co-operation, only rendering a little homage to decency by 
seeking to do it through intermediates, so as not too disgustingly to dirty 
their own hands. 

"In such a condition of things the cities become the prey of the 
' criminal class ' in politics, in order to ensure the discipline and organ- 
ization in State and national politics which are necessary to the distin- 
guished leaders for success. As a result it goes almost without saying 
that every considerable city has its rings and its actual or would-be bosses. 
There are occasional ' revolutions of the palace ' in which bosses are 
deposed, or ' choked off,' because they are growing too fat on the spoils, 
and there is no such permanence of tenure as to enable the uninitiated 
always to tell what boss or what ring is in power. They do not publish 
an Almanack de Gotha, but we feel and know that the process of plunder 
continues. A man of genius in this way, like a Tweed or a Kelly, comes 
occasionally to the front, but even in the absence of a ruler of this sort 
the ward politicians can always tell where the decisive influences reside. 

" The size of the city in which the system reaches full bloom depends 
upon its business and general character. Small towns with a proportion- 
ately large manufacturing population are better fields for rings than more 
homogeneous communities built up as centres of mercantile trade. The 
tendency however is to organize an official body of ' workers ' in even the 
smallest community ; and the selfishness of man naturally leads to 
the doctrine that those who do the work shall live by it. Thus, from the 
profits of ' rotation in office ' and the exercise of intrigue and trick to get 
the place of the present incumbent, there is the facilis descensus to re- 
garding the profits of peculation and the plunder of the public as a legiti- 
mate corrective for the too slow accumulation from legal pay. Certain 
salaries and fees in local offices are notoriously kept high, so that the 



chap, l.xiv EXTENSION OF RINGS AND BOSSES 123 

incumbent may freely ' bleed' for party use, or, what is the same thing, 
for the use of party ' bummers. 1 Thus we have had clerks of courts and 
sheriffs getting - many times as much pay as the judges on the bench, etc. 
From this, jobbing in contracts, bribery, and unblushing stealing are 
readied by such easy steps that perhaps the local politician is hardly con- 
scious of the progress in his moral education." 

St. Louis (Missouri), population in 1890, 451,770 — 

" There are always Rings in both parties more or less active according 
to circumstances. 

"Two or perhaps three men are the recognized Bosses of the Demo- 
cratic party (which is in the majority), one man of the Republican. 

"The Rings are the cause of both peculation and jobbery, although 
St. Louis has had no ; big steal. ' 

" A good citizen seeking office would be excluded by the action of the 
Rings in our large cities, except in times of excitement, when good people 
are aroused to a proper sense of duty." 1 

Louisville (Kentucky), population in 1890, 161,129 — 

11 It can hardly be said that there is a regular Ring in Louisville. 
There are corrupt combinations, but they are continually shifting. The 
higher places in these combinations are occupied by Democrats, these 
being the ruling party, but they always contain some Republicans. 

"The only Boss there is in Louisville to-day is the Louisville Gas 
Company. It works mainly through the Democratic party, as it is easier 
to bribe the ' Republican ' negroes into the support of Democratic candi- 
dates than white Democrats to support Republicans. 

' ' There is very little peculation in Kentucky now — no great disclosure 
for over five years ; but there is a great deal of jobbery. 

' ' The effect of the combinations is of course towards excluding good 
and capable men from office and to make room for mere favourites and 
local politicians." 2 

Minneapolis (Minnesota), population in 1890, 164,738 (?) — 

"There has been for several years past a very disreputable Ring, 
which has come into power by capturing the machinery of the Democratic 
party, through (1) diligent work in the ward caucuses ; (2) by its active 
alliance with the liquor dealers, gamblers, and so forth, and the support 
of 'lewd fellows of the baser sort,' regardless of national political prefer- 
ences ; (3) by a skilful and plausible championship of ' labor ' and a 
capture of the labor vote, 

"The Boss of this gang is thoroughly disliked and distrusted by the 
responsible and reputable element of his party in Minnesota, but they 

1 My correspondent writes in 1892 that the above remarks are still equally 
applicable. Both parties remain under a despotic Ring rule. 

2 The condition of Louisville was substantially the same in 1893. 



124 THE PARTY SYSTEM 



tolerate him on account of his popularity and because they cannot break 
him down. He has operated chiefly through control of the police system. 
Instead of suppressing gambling houses, for example, he has allowed 
several of them to run under police protection, himself sharing in their 
large gains. Until recently the liquor saloon licenses have been $500 
(£100) a year. He and the heads of the police department have allowed 
a number of places to retail liquor somewhat secretly outside the police 
patrol limits, within which we restrict the liquor traffic and from these 
illicit publicans the Ring has collected large sums of monej^. 

"The Ring has seemed to control the majority in the Common Coun- 
cil, but the system of direct taxation and of checking expenditure is so 
open, and the scrutiny of the press and public so constant, that there has 
been little opportunity for actual plunder. In the awarding of contracts 
there is sometimes a savour of jobbery, and several of the councilmen 
are not above taking bribes. But they have been able to do compara- 
tively little mischief ; in fact, nothing outrageous has occurred outside of 
the police department. The Ring has lately obtained control of the 
(elective) Park Board, and some disreputable jobs have resulted. So there 
have been malpractices in the department of health and hospitals, in the 
management of the water system and in the giving away of a street rail- 
way franchise. But we are not a badly-plundered city by any means ; 
and we have just succeeded in taking the control of the police out of the 
hands of the Ring officials and vested it in a Metropolitan Police Board, 
with excellent results. Two of the Ring are now under indictment of the 
county grand jury for malpractices in office." 

St. Paul (Minnesota), population in 1890, 133,156 (?)— 

" There is no regular Ring in St. Paul. It has for many years been in 
the hands of a clique of municipal Democratic politicians, who are fairly 
good citizens, and have committed no very outrageous depredations. The 
city is run upon a narrow partisan plan, but in its main policies and 
expenditures the views of leading citizens as formulated in the Chamber 
of Commerce almost invariably prevail. 

" The Rings of Western cities (adds my informant) are not deliber- 
ately organized for plunder or jobbery. They grow out of our party poli- 
tics. Certain of the worst elements of a party find that their superior 
diligence and skill in the manipulation of precinct and ward caucuses put 
them in control of the local machinery of their party organization. The 
success of their party gives them control of municipal affairs. They are 
generally men who are not engaged in successful trade or professional 
life, and make city politics their business. They soon find it profitable 
to engage in various small schemes and jobs for profit, but do not usually 
perpetrate anything very bold or bad." 

I have taken the two cities of Minneapolis and St. Paul 
because they illustrate the differences which one often finds 



chap, lxiv EXTENSION OF RINGS AND BOSSES 125 

between places whose population and other conditions seem 
very similar. The centres of these two cities are only ten 
miles apart; their suburbs are already beginning to touch. 
Minneapolis is younger, and has grown far more rapidly, and 
the manufacturing element in its population is larger. But in 
most respects it resembles its elder sister — they are extremely 
jealous of one another — so closely that an Old World observer 
who has not realized the swiftness with which phenomena come 
and go in the West is surprised to find the political maladies 
of the one so much graver than those of the other. 

So stood things in 1887. In 1893 they had changed for the 
better in both cities. The Boss of Minneapolis had vanished, 
and the party opposed to that he had adorned was in power. 
The municipal administration, if not free from reproach, was 
comparatively free from scandals. St. Paul showed a marked 
improvement. A mayor had been elected on a ' ; reform 
ticket."' and the municipal clique formerly dominant had been 
broken up. But no one could feel sure that these gains would 
be preserved. Six years hence both cities may have relapsed, 
or the contrast that 1887 showed between them may have 
reappeared. 1 The great city of San Francisco, capital of 
the "Pacific slope," with a population of 300,000 people, 
was for years ruled by a boss who, through an energetic 
lieutenant, commanded the Fire Department of the city, 
and used its 350 paid employes as a sort of praetorian guard. 
He controlled the city elections, dominated the officials, was 
a power in State politics, tampered with the administration 
of the criminal law. At last steps were taken to have him 
and his grand vizir indicted for peculation, whereupon they 
both fled to Canada, and the city escaped the yoke. But the 
conditions which produced bossdom remaining, other and 
scarcely less audacious bosses soon arose, and now, accord- 
ing to the latest information I have been able to secure, 
the too heedless taxpayers are being plundered in the old 
fashion. 

In cities of the second rank (say from ten thousand to one 
hundred thousand inhabitants) some of the same mischiefs 

1 1 have just been informed (May, 1894) that the " reform " party has been 
defeated at the last election in St. Paul, and it is feared that the relapse con- 
templated in the text will now follow. 



126 THE PARTY SYSTEM part hi 

exist, but on a smaller scale. The opportunities for jobbing 
are limited. The offices are moderately paid. The popula- 
tion of new immigrants, politically incompetent, and therefore 
easily pervertible, bears a smaller ratio to the native Ameri- 
cans. The men most prominent by their wealth or capacity 
are more likely to be known to the mass of the voters, and 
may have more leisure to join in local politics. Hence, 
although we find rings in many of these cities, they are less 
powerful, less audacious, less corrupt. There are, of course, 
differences between one city and another, differences some- 
times explicable by its history and the character of its popu- 
lation. A very high authority writes me from Michigan, a 
State above the average — 

" I have heard no charge of the reign of Bosses or Rings for the ' pur- 
poses of peculation ' in any of the cities or towns of Michigan or Indiana, 
or indeed in more than a few of our cities generally, and those for the 
most part are the large cities. In certain cases rings or bosses have man- 
aged political campaigns for partisan purposes, and sometimes to such an 
extent, say in Detroit (population in 1890, 205,876), that good citizens 
have been excluded from office or have declined to run. But robbery 
was not the aim of the rings. In not a few of our cities the liquor-saloon 
keepers have combined to ' run politics ' so as to gain control and secure 
a municipal management friendly to them. That is in part the explana- 
tion of the great uprising of the Prohibition party." 

The cities of New York State seem to suffer more than 
those of New England or the West. Albany (a place of 
95,000 people) has long groaned under its bosses, but as the 
seat of the New York legislature it is a focus of intrigue. 
Buffalo (with 255,000) has a large Irish and German popula- 
tion. Eochester and Troy are ruled by local cliques; the 
latter is full of fellows who go to serve as " repeaters " at 
Albany elections. Syracuse (88,000) is smaller and better 
than Eochester, but has of late years shown some serious 
symptoms of the same disease. Cleveland is a larger place 
than any of these, but having, like the rest of Northern 
Ohio, a better quality of population, its rings have never 
carried things with a high hand, nor stolen public money. 
The same may be said of Milwaukee and of such New England 
cities as Providence, Augusta, Hartford, Worcester, Lowell. 
The system more or less exists in all these, but the bosses 



chap, lxiv EXTENSION OF RINGS AND BOSSES 127 

have not ventured to exclude respectable outsiders from office, 
nor have they robbed the city, debauched the legislature, re- 
tained their power by election frauds after the manner of their 
great models in New York and Philadelphia. And this seems 
to hold true also of the Western and Southern cities of moder- 
ate size. A seaside suburb of one great Eastern city lately 
produced a singularly audacious boss, who combined that 
position with those of head of the police and superintendent 
of the principal Sunday school. He had tampered freely with 
the election returns, giving his support sometimes to one 
party, sometimes to another, and had apparently been able to 
" turn over " the vote of the place at his pleasure. A rising 
of the " good citizens " has at last succeeded in procuring his 
conviction and imprisonment for election offences. 
As regards Ohio a judicious authority says — 

" Rings are much less likely to exist in the smaller cities, though a 
population of 30,000 or 40,000 may occasionally support them. We should 
hardly find them in a city below 10,000 : any corruption there would be 
occasional, not systematic." 

From Missouri I am informed that — 

" We have few or no Rings in cities under 60,000 inhabitants. The 
smaller cities are not favourable to such kinds of control. Men know 
one another too well. There is no large floating irresponsible following 
as in large cities." 

A similar answer from Kentucky adds that Rings have never- 
theless been heard of in cities so small as Lexington (22,000 
inhabitants) and Frankfort (8500). 

In quite small towns and in the rural districts — in fact, 
wherever there is not a municipality, but government is either 
by a town meeting and selectmen or by township or county 
officials — the dangerous conditions are reduced to their mini- 
mum. The new immigrants are not generally planted in large 
masses but scattered among the native population, whose habits 
and modes of thinking they soon acquire. The Germans and 
Scandinavians who settle in the country districts have been 
among the best of their race, and form a valuable element. 
The country voter, whether native or foreign, is exposed to 
fewer temptations than his brother of the city, and is less easy 



128 THE PAKTY SYSTEM part hi 

either to lead or to drive. He is parsimonious, and pays his 
comity or town officials on a niggardly scale. A boss has 
therefore no occupation in such a place. His talents would be 
wasted. If a ring exists in a small city it is little more than 
a clique of local lawyers who combine to get hold of the local 
offices, each in his turn, and to secure a seat for one of them- 
selves in the State legislature, where there may be pickings to 
be had. It is not easy to draw the line between such a clique, 
which one may find all the world over, and a true Ring : but 
by whichever name we call the weed, it does little harm to the 
crop. Here and there, however, one meets with a genuine Boss 
even in these seats of rural innocence. I know a New England 
Town, with a population of about ten thousand people, which 
has long been ruled by such a local wirepuller. I do not think 
he steals. But he has gathered a party of voters round him, 
by whose help he carries the offices, and gets a chance of per- 
petrating jobs which enrich himself and supply work for his 
supporters. The circumstances, however, are exceptional. 
Within the taxing area of the Town there lie many villas of 
wealthy merchants, who do business in a neighbouring city, 
but are taxed on their summer residences here. Hence the 
funds which this Town has to deal with are much larger than 
would be the case in most towns of its' size, while many of the 
rich tax- payers are not citizens here, but vote in the city where 
they live during the winter. 1 Hence they cannot go to the 
town meeting to beard the boss, but must grin and pay while 
they watch his gambols. 

Speaking generally, the country places and the smaller cities 
are not ring-ridden. There is a tendency everywhere for the 
local party organizations to fall into the hands of a few men, 
perhaps of one man. But this happens not so much from an 
intent to exclude others and misuse power, as because the work 
is left to those who have some sort of interest in doing it, that, 
namely, of being themselves nominated to an office. Such 
persons are seldom professional office-seekers, but lawyers, 
farmers, or store-keepers, who are glad to add something to 

1 It will be remembered tbat in the United States, though a man may pay 
taxes on his real estate in any number of States or counties or cities, he can 
vote, even in purely local elections or on purely local matters, in one place 
only — that in which he is held to reside. 



nnr.uiv EXTENSION OF RINGS AND ROSSES 120 

their income, and have the importance, not so contemptible in 
a village, of sitting in the State legislature. Nor does mnch 
harm result. The administration is fairly good ; the tax-payers 
are not robbed. If a leading citizen, who does not belong to 
the managing circle, wishes to get a nomination, he will prob- 
ably succeed; in fact, no one will care to exclude him. In 
many places there is a non-party "citizens' committee" which 
takes things out of the hands of the two organizations by 
running as candidates respectable men irrespective of party. 
Such candidates generally succeed if the local party managers 
have offended public sentiment by bad nominations. In short, 
the materials for real ring government do not exist, and its 
methods are inapplicable, outside the large cities. No one 
needs to fear it, or does fear it. 

What has been said refers chiefly to the Northern, Middle, 
and Western States. The circumstances of the South are dif- 
ferent, but they illustrate equally well the general laws of ring 
growth. In the Southern cities there is scarcely any population 
of European immigrants. The lowest class consists of negroes 
and "poor whites." The negroes are ignorant, and would be 
dangerously plastic material in the hands of unscrupulous 
wirepullers, as was amply shown after the Civil War. But 
they have hitherto mostly belonged to the Eepublican party, 
and the Democratic party has so completely regained its 
ascendency that the bosses who controlled the negro vote can 
do nothing. In most parts of the South the men of ability and 
standing have interested themselves in politics so far as to 
dictate the lines of party action. Their position when self- 
government was restored and the carpet-baggers had to be 
overthrown forced them to exertions. Sometimes they use or 
tolerate a ring, but they do not suffer it to do serious mischief, 
and it is usually glad to nominate one of them, or any one 
whom they recommend. The old traditions of social leadership 
survive better in the South than in the North, so that the 
poorer part of the white population is more apt to follow the 
suggestions of eminent local citizens and to place them at its 
head when they will accept the position. Moreover, the South 
is a comparatively poor country. Less is to be gained from 
office (including membership of a legislature), either in the 
way of salary or indirectly through jobbing contracts or 
vol. n K 



130 THE PARTY SYSTEM part hi 

influencing legislation. The prizes in the profession of politics 
being fewer, the profession is not prosecuted with the same 
earnestness and perfection of organization. There are, how- 
ever, some cities where conditions similar to those of large 
Northern cities reappear, and there King-and-bossdom reap- 
pears also. New Orleans is the best example, and in Arkansas 
and Texas, where there never was a plantation aristocracy like 
that of the Slave States on the Atlantic coast, rings are pretty 
numerous, though, as the cities are small and seldom rich, 
their exploits attract little attention. 



CHAPTER LXV 

SPOILS 

An illustration of the familiar dictum regarding the wisdom 
with which the world is governed may be found in the fact that 
the greatest changes are often those introduced with the least 
notion of their consequence, and the most fatal those which 
encounter least resistance. So the system of removals from 
Federal office which began some sixty-five years ago, though 
disapproved of by several among the leading statesmen of the 
time, including Clay, Webster, and Calhoun, excited compara- 
tively little attention in the country, nor did its advocates 
foresee a tithe of its far-reaching results. 

The Constitution vests the right of appointing to Federal 
offices in the President, requiring the consent of the Senate^ in 
the case of the more important, and permitting Congress to 
vest the appointment of inferior officers in the President alone, 
in the courts, or in the heads of departments. It was assumed 
that this clause gave officials a tenure at the pleasure of the 
President — i.e. that he had the legal right of removing them 
without cause assigned. But the earlier Presidents considered 
the tenure as being practically for life or during good behav- 
iour, and did not remove, except for some solid reason, persons 
appointed by their predecessors. Washington in his eight 
years displaced only nine persons, and all for cause, John 
Adams nine in four years, and those not on political grounds. 
Jefferson in his eight years removed thirty-nine, but many of 
these were persons whom Adams had unfairly put in just before 
quitting office ; and in the twenty years that followed (1808-28) 
there were but sixteen removals. In 1820, however, a bill was 
run through Congress with hardly any discussion, fixing four 
years as the term for a large number of the more important 
offices, and making those terms expire shortly after the inau- 



132 THE PARTY SYSTEM part hi 

guration of a President. This was ominous of evil, and called 
forth the strong displeasure of both Jefferson and Madison. 
The President, however, and his heads of departments did not 
remove, so the tenure of good behaviour generally remained. 
But a new era began with the hot and heady Jackson, who 
reached the presidential chair in 1829. He was a rough 
Western, a man of the people, borne into power by a popular 
movement, incensed against all who were connected with his 
predecessor, a warm friend and a bitter enemy, anxious to 
repay services rendered to himself. Penetrated by extreme 
theories of equality, he proclaimed in his Message that rotation 
in office was a principle in the Republican creed, and obeyed 
both his doctrine and his passions by displacing five hundred 
post-masters in his first year, and appointing partisans in their 
room. The plan of using office as a mere engine in partisan 
warfare had already been tried in New York, where the stress 
of party contests had led to an early development of many 
devices in party organization ; and it was a New York adherent 
of Jackson, Marcy, who, speaking in the Senate in 1832, con- 
densed the new doctrine in a phrase that has become famous 
— " To the victor belong the spoils." 1 

From 1828 to a few years ago the rule with both parties has 
been that on a change of President nearly all Federal offices, 
from the legations to European Courts down to village post- 
masterships, are deemed to be vacant. The present holders 
may of course be continued or reappointed (if their term has 
expired) ; and. if the new President belongs to the same party 
as his predecessor, many of them will be; but they are not 
held to have either a legal or a moral claim. The choice of the 
President or departmental head has been absolutely free, no 
qualifications, except the citizenship of the nominee, being 
required, nor any check imposed on him, except that the 
Senate's consent is needed to the more important posts. 2 

1 Before 1820 Governor Clinton complained " of an organized and disci- 
plined corps of Federal officials interfering in State elections." Marcy's 
speech was a defence of the system of partisan removals and short terms 
from the example of his own State. " They [the New York politicians] when 
contending for victory avow the intention of enjoying the fruits of it. They 
see nothing wrong in the rule that to the victor belong the spoils of the 
enemy." 

2 See on this subject, Chapter V. in Vol. I. 

The Act of 1820 as extended by subsequent legislation now covers about 



chap, lxv SPOILS 133 

The want of knowledge on the part of the President and his 
ministers of the persons who applied for places at a distance, 
obliged them to seek information and advice from those who, 
belonging- to the neighbourhood, could give it. It w r as natural 
for the senators from a State or the representative in Congress 
from a district within which a vacant office lay, to recommend 
to the President candidates for it, natural for the President or 
his ministers to be guided by this recommendation, of course, 
in both cases, only when they belonged to the same party as the 
President. Thus the executive became accustomed to admit 
the rights which the politicians claimed, and suffered its 
patronage to be prostituted to the purpose of rewarding local 
party service and conciliating local party support. Now and 
then a President, or a strong Minister controlling the Presi- 
dent, has proved restive; yet the usage continues, being 
grounded on the natural wish of the executive to have the 
good-will and help of the senators in getting treaties and 
appointments confirmed, and on the feeling that the party in 
every district must be strengthened by a distribution of good 
things, in the way which the local leader thinks most service- 
able. The essential features of the system are, that a place in 
the public service is held at the absolute pleasure of the 
appointing authority; that it is invariably bestowed from 
party motives on a party man, as a reward for party services 
(whether of the appointee or of some one who pushes him) ; 
that no man expects to hold it any longer than his party holds 
power; and that this gives him the strongest personal reasons 
for fighting in the party ranks. Thus the conception of office 
among politicians came to be not the ideal one, of its involving 
a duty to the community, nor the "practical" one, of its being 
a snug berth in which a man may live if he does not positively 
neglect his work, but the perverted one, of its being a salary 
paid in respect of party services, past, present, and future. 

The politicians, however, could hardly have riveted this 
system on the country but for certain notions which had be- 
come current among the mass of the people. "Rotation in 
office " was, and indeed by most men still is, held to be con- 

4000 offices. Its mischief, however, is not confined to the legal vacating of 
these posts, hut has lain largely also in establishing a custom applying to a 
far larger number of minor places. 



134 THE PARTY SYSTEM part hi 

forinable to the genius of a democracy. It gives every man 
an equal chance of power and salary, resembling herein the 
Athenian and Florentine system of choosing officers by lot. 
It is supposed to stimulate men to exertion, to foster a lauda- 
ble ambition to serve the country or the neighbourhood, to 
prevent the growth of an official caste, with its habits of rou- 
tine, its stiffness, its arrogance. It recognizes that equality 
which is so dear to the American mind, bidding an official 
remember that he is the servant of the people and not their 
master, like the bureaucrats of Europe. It forbids him to 
fancy that he has any right to be where he is. any ground for 
expecting to stay there. It ministers in an odd kind of way 
to that fondness for novelty and change in persons and sur- 
roundings which is natural in the constantly-moving commu- 
nities of the West. The habit which grew up of electing State 
and city officers for short terms tended in the same direction. 
If those whom the people itself chose were to hold office only 
for a year or two. why should those who were appointed by 
Federal authority have a more stable tenure? And the use of 
patronage for political purposes was further justified by the 
example of England, whose government was believed by the 
Americans of fifty years ago to be worked, as in last century 
it largely was worked, by the Patronage Secretary of the 
Treasury in his function of distributing places to membei 
the House of Commons, and honours (such as orders of knight- 
hood and steps in the peerage) to members of the House of 
Lords, ecclesiastical preferments to the relatives of both. 1 

Another and a potent reason why the rotation plan com- 
mended itself to the Americans is to be found in the belief 
that one man is as good as another, and will do well enough 
any work you set him to. a belief happily expressed by their 
old enemy King George the Third when he said that " every 
man is good enough for any place he can get." In America 
a smart man is expected to be able to do anything that he 
turns his hand to, and the fact that a man has worked him- 
self into a place is some evidence of his smartness. He is a 
"practical man." This is at bottom George the Third's idea; 

1 Xow of course the table? have been turned, and the t-xamples of the 
practically irremovable English civil service- and of the competitive entrance 
examinations in England are cited against the American system. 



chap, lxv SPOILS L66 

if you are clever enough to make people give you a place, you 
lever enough to discharge its duties, or to conceal the 
fact that you are not discharging them. It may be added 
that most of these Federal places, and those which come most 
before the eyes of the ordinary citizen, require little special 
titness. Any careful and honest man does fairly well for a 
tide-waiter or a lighthouse keeper. Able and active men had 
no great interest in advocating appointment by merit or security 
of tenure, for they seldom wanted places themselves; and they 
had, or thought they had, an interest in jobbing their poor 
relatives and unprosperous friends into the public service. It 
is true that the relative or friend ran the risk of being turned 
out. But hope is stronger than fear. The prospect of getting 
a place affects ten people for one who is affected by the pros- 
pect of losing it, for aspirants are many and places relatively 
few. 

Hitherto we have been considering Federal offices only, the 
immense majority whereof are such petty posts as those of post- 
master in a village, custom-house officer at a seaport, and so 
forth, although they also include clerkships in the departments 
at Washington, foreign ambassadorships and consulates, and 
governorships of the Territories. The system of rotation had, 
however, laid such a hold on the mind of the country that it 
soon extended itself over State offices and city offices also, in 
so far as such offices remained appointive, and were not, like 
the higher administrative posts and (in most of the States and 
the larger cities) the judicial offices, handed over to pojmlar 
election. Thus, down to that very recent time of which I shall 
speak presently, appointment by favour and tenure at the pleas- 
ure of the appointer became the rule in every sphere and branch 
of government. National, State, and municipal. It may seem 
strange that a x^eople so eminently practical as the Americans 
acquiesced in a system which perverts public office from its 
proper function of serving the public, destroys the prospect of 
that skill which comes with experience, and gives nobody the 
security that he will gain a higher post, or even retain the 
one he holds, by displaying conspicuous efficiency. The expla- 
nation is that administration used to be conducted in a happy- 
go-lucky way. that the citizens, accustomed to help themselves, 
relied very little on their functionaries, and did not care whether 



136 THE PARTY SYSTEM part hi 

they were skilful or not, and that it was so easy and so com- 
mon for a man who fell out of one kind of business to take to 
and make his living by another, that deprivation seemed to 
involve little hardship. However, the main reason was that 
there was no party and no set of persons specially interested in 
putting an end to the system, whereas there soon came to be a 
set specially concerned to defend it. It developed, I might 
almost say created, the class of professional politicians, and 
they maintained it, because it exactly suited them. That great 
and growing volume of political work to be done in managing 
primaries, conventions, and elections for the city, State, and 
National governments, whereof I have already spoken, and 
which the advance of democratic sentiment and the needs of 
party warfare evolved from 1820 down to about 1850, needed 
men who should give to it constant and undivided attention. 
These men the plan of rotation in office provided. Persons 
who had nothing to gain for themselves would soon have tired 
of the work. The members of a permanent civil service would 
have had no motive for interfering in politics, because the politi- 
cal defeat of a public officer's friends would have left his posi- 
tion the same as before, and the civil service not being all of 
one party, but composed of persons appointed at different times 
by executives of different hues, would not have acted together 
as a whole. Those, however, whose bread and butter depend 
on their party may be trusted to work for their party, to enlist 
recruits, look after the organization, play electioneering tricks 
from which ordinary party spirit might recoil. The class of 
professional politicians was therefore the first crop which the 
Spoils System, the system of using public office as private prize 
of war, bore. Bosses were the second crop. In the old Scan- 
dinavian poetry the special title of the king or chieftain is " the 
giver of rings." He attracts followers and rewards the services, 
whether of the warrior or the skald, by liberal gifts. So the 
Boss wins and holds power by the bestowal of patronage. 
Places are the guerdon of victory in election warfare; he 
divides this spoil before as well as after the battle, promising 
the higher elective offices to the strongest among his fighting 
men, and dispensing the minor appointive offices which lie in 
his own gift, or that of his lieutenants, to combatants of less 
note but equal loyalty. Thus the chieftain consolidates, extends. 



chap, lxv SPOILS 137 

fortifies his power by rewarding his supporters. He garrisons 
the outposts with his squires and henchmen, who are bound 
fast to him by the hope of getting something more, and the 
fear of losing what they have. Most of these appointive offices 
are too poorly paid to attract able men; but they form a step- 
ping-stone to the higher ones obtained by popular election; 
and the desire to get them and keep them provides that numer- 
ous rank and rile which the American system requires to work 
the Machine. In a country like England office is an object of 
desire to a few prominent men, but only to a few, because the 
places which are vacated on a change of government are less 
than sixty in all, while vacancies in other places happen only 
by death or promotion. Hence an insignificant number of per- 
sons out of the whole population have a personal pecuniary 
interest in the triumph of their party. In England, therefore, 
one has what may be called the general officers and headquar- 
ters stuff of an army of professional politicians, but few subal- 
terns and no privates. And in England most of these general 
officers are rich men, independent of official salaries. In 
America the privates are proportioned in number to the offi- 
cers. They are a great host. As nearly all live by politics, 
they are held together by a strong personal motive. When 
their party is kept out of the spoils of the Federal government, 
as the Democrats were out from 1861 to 1885, they have a 
second chance in the State spoils, a third chance in the city 
spoils ; and the prospect of winning at least one of these two 
latter sets of places maintains their discipline and whets their 
appetite, however slight may be their chance of capturing the 
Federal offices. 

It is these spoilsmen who have depraved and distorted the 
mechanism of politics. It is they who pack the primaries and 
run the conventions so as to destroy the freedom of popular 
choice, they who contrive and execute the election frauds which 
disgrace some States and cities, — repeating and ballot stuffing, 
obstruction of the polls, and fraudulent countings in. 1 

In making every administrative appointment a matter of 
party claim and personal favour, the system has lowered the 

1 The fact that in Canada the civil service is permanent has douhtless much 
to do with the absence of such a regular party Machine as the United States 
possess. 



138 THE PARTY SYSTEM part hi 

general tone of public morals, for it has taught men to neglect 
the interests of the community, and made insincerity ripen into 
cynicism. Xobody supposes that merit has anything to do with 
promotion, or believes the pretext alleged for an appointment. 
Politics has been turned into the art of distributing salaries so 
as to secure the maximum of support from friends with the 
minimum of offence to opponents. To this art able men have 
been forced to bend their minds : on this Presidents and min- 
isters have spent those hours which were demanded by the 
real problems of the country. 1 The rising politician must 
think of obscure supporters seeking petty places as well as 
of those greater appointments by which his knowledge of men 
and his honesty deserve to be judged. It is hardly a caricature 
when, in Mr. Lowell's satire, the intending presidential candi- 
date writes to his maritime friend in New England, — 

" If you git me inside the White House, 
Your head with ile I'll kinder 'nint, 
By gittin' you inside the light-house, 
Down to the end of Jaalam pint." 

After this, it seems a small thing to add that rotation in 
office has not improved the quality of the civil service. Men 
selected for their services at elections or in primaries have not 
proved the most capable servants of the public. As most of 
the posts they fill need nothing more than such ordinary busi- 
ness qualities as the average American possesses, the mischief 
has not come home to the citizens generally, but it has some- 
times been serious in the higher grades, such as the depart- 
ments at Washington and some of the greater custom-houses. 2 
Moreover, the official is not free to attend to his official duties. 
More important, because more influential on his fortunes, is the 
duty to his party of looking after its interests at the election, 
and his duty to his chiefs, the Boss and Ring, of seeing that 
the candidate they favour gets the party nomination. Such 

1 President Garfield said "one-third of the working hours of senators and 
representatives is scarcely sufficient to meet the demands in reference to the 
appointments to office. . . . With a judicious system of civil service, the 
business of the departments could be better done at half the cost." 

2 Sometimes the evil was so much felt that a subordinate of experience was 
always retained for the sake of teaching those who came in by political favour 
how to carry on the work. 



chap, lxv SPOILS 139 

an official, whom democratic theory seeks to remind of his 
d the public, does not feel himself bound to the 
public, but to the city boss or senator or congressman who has 
procured his appointment. Gratitude, duty, service, are all 
for the patron. So far from making the official zealous in the 
performance of his functions, insecurity oi' tenure has discour- 
aged sedulous application to work, since it is not by such 
application that office is retained and promotion won. The 
administration of some among the public departments in Fed- 
eral and city government is more behind that of private enter- 
prises than is the case in European countries ; the ingenuity 
and executive talent which the nation justly boasts, are least 
visible in national or municipal business. In short, the civil 
service is not in America, and cannot, under the system oi 
rotation, become a career. Place-hunting is the career, and an 
office is not a public trust, but a means of requiting party 
services, and also, under the method of assessments previously 
described, a source whence party funds may be raised for 
election purposes. 

>Some of these evils were observed as far back as 1853, when 
an Act was passed by Congress requiring clerks appointed to 
the departments at Washington to pass a qualifying examina- 
tion. 1 Neither this nor subsequent legislative efforts in the 
same direction produced any improvement, for the men in 
office who ought to have given effect to the law were hostile 
to it. Similar causes defeated the system of competitive ex- 
amination, inaugurated by an Act of Congress in 1871, when 
the present agitation for civil service reform had begun to lay 
hold of the public mind. Mr. Hayes (1877-81) was the first 
President who seems to have honestly desired to reform the 
civil service, but the opposition of the politicians, and the 
indifference of Congress, which had legislated merely in defer- 
ence to the pressure of enlightened opinion outside, proved too 
much for him. A real step in advance was, however, made in 
1883, by the passage of the so-called Pendleton Act, which 
instituted a board of civil service commissioners (to be named 
by the President), directing them to apply a system of com- 

1 To have made places tenable during good behaviour would have been open 
to the objection that it might prevent the dismissal of incompetent men against 
whoiu no specihe charge could be proved. 



140 THE PARTY SYSTEM pabt hi 

petitive examinations to a considerable number of offices in the 
departments at Washington, and a smaller number in other 
parts of the country. President Arthur named a good com- 
mission, and under the rules framed by it some good was 
effected. The action of the two succeeding Presidents has 
been matter of recent controversy ; but while admitting that 
less has been done in the way of reform than might have been 
desired, it is no less true that much more has been done than 
it would have been safe to expect fifteen years ago. In the 
so-called " classified service," to which the examination system 
is applied, some removals for political reasons are still occa- 
sionally made, but the percentage is far smaller than in the 
unclassified service, and the Civil Service Commissioners seem 
justified in the view the} r expressed in their report of 1891, 
that "either outside the classified service poorer grades of 
appointments are made, or else there are many removals of 
perfectly good men who are sacrificed simply for party or per- 
sonal considerations. Probably both these conclusions would 
be just." 

The Act of 1883 originally applied to only 14,000 posts. It 
has since been so extended as now to apply to about 43,000 
out of a total estimated at 130,000 posts in the national civil 
service ; and the salaries of those covered by it amount to one- 
half of the total sum paid in salaries by the government. Its 
moral effect, however, has been even greater than this propor- 
tion represents, and entitles it to the description given of it 
at the time as " a sad blow to the pessimists." Public senti- 
ment is more and more favourable, and though the lower sort 
of "professionals" are incensed at so great an interference 
with their methods, all, or nearly all, the leading men in both 
parties seem now disposed to support it. It strengthens the 
hands of any President who may desire reform, and has stimu- 
lated the civil service reform movement in States and munici- 
palities. Several States have now instituted examinations for 
admission to their civil service ; and similar legislation has 
been applied to New York, Brooklyn, Philadelphia, Boston, 
and other cities. Some years must pass before the result of 
these changes upon the purification of politics can be fairly 
judged. It is for the present enough to say that while the 
state of things above described has been generally true both 



CHAP, l.w SPOILS 141 



of Federal and ^i' State and city administration during the last 
sixty years, there is now reas n to hope that the practice of 
appointing for short terms, and of refusing to reappoint, or of 
dismissing in order to fill vacancies with political adherents, 
has been shaken. Nor can it be doubted that the extension of 
examinations will tend more and more to exclude mere spoils- 
men from the public service. 



CHAPTER LXVI 

ELECTIONS AND THEIR MACHINERY 

I cannot attempt to describe the complicated and varying 
election laws of the different States. Bnt the methods of 
conducting elections have so largely influenced the develop- 
ment of Machine politics, and the recent changes in them have 
made so much stir and seem likely to have such considerable 
results, that the subject must not pass unnoticed. 

All expenses of preparing the polling places and of paying 
the clerks and other election officers who receive and count 
the votes, are borne by the community, not (as in Britain) 
by the candidates. 

All elections, whether for city, State, or Federal offices, are 
in all States conducted by ballot, which, however, was intro- 
duced, and was long regarded, not so much as a device for 
preventing bribery or intimidation, but rather as the quickest 
and easiest mode of taking the votes of a multitude. Secrecy 
had not been specially aimed at, nor in point of fact generally 
secured. 

An election is a far more complicated affair in America than 
in Europe. The number of elective offices is greater, and as 
terms of office are shorter, the number of offices to be voted 
for in any given year is much greater. To save the expense 
of numerous distinct pollings, it has been usual, though by no 
means universal, to take the pollings for a variety of offices at 
the same time, that is to say, to elect Federal officials (presi- 
dential electors and congressmen), State officials, county offi- 
cials, and city officials on one and the same day and at the 
same polling booths. Presidential electors are chosen only 
once in four years, congressmen once in two. But the number 
of State and county and city places to be filled is so large that 
a voter seldom goes to the polling booth without having to 

142 



chap, lx vi ELECTIONS AND THEIK MACHINERY L43 



cast his vote for at least eight or ten persons, candidates for 

different offices, and sometimes he may vote for twenty or 
thirty. 

This gave rise to the system of slip tickets. A slip ticket 
is a list, printed on a long strip of paper, of the persons stand- 
ing in the same interest, that is to say, recommended by the 
same party or political group for the posts to be tilled up at 
any election. 1 Till very recently, the universal practice was 
for each such voting ticket to be printed and issued by a party 
organization, and to be then distributed at the polling booths by 
the party agents to the voters and placed by them in the box. 
The voter usually voted the ticket as he received it, that is 
to say. he voted en bloc for all the names it contained. It was 
indeed open to him to modify it by striking out certain names 
(••scratching") and writing in others, or by placing over a 
name a bit of paper, gummed at the back for the purpose 
(called a •• paster"), on which was printed the name of some 
other candidate. But the always potent tendency to vote 
the party list as a whole was naturally stronger when that 
whole list found itself on the same piece of paper in the voter's 
hands than it would have been had the paper contained in 
alphabetical order the names of all the candidates whomsoever, 
making it necessary to pick and choose among them. This, 
however, was the least of the evils incident to the system. 
When (as often happened) the two great parties had bad 
names on their respective State or city tickets, the obvious 
remedy was the formation of a " Citizens' " or " Independent " 
organization to run better men. The heavy expense of print- 
ing and distributing the tickets was a serious obstacle to the 
making of such independent nominations, while the " regular " 
ticket distributors did all in their power to impede the distribu- 
tion of these " independent tickets," and generally to confuse 
and mislead the independent voter. The expenses which the 
regular parties had to bear were made by their leaders a pretext 
for levying "election assessments " on candidates, and thereby 
(see ante, p. 118) of virtually selling nominations. And, finally, 
the absence of secrecy, for the voter could be followed by 
watchful eyes from the moment when he received the party 

1 A ticket includes more names or fewer, according to the number of offices 
to be filled, but usually more than a dozen. 



144 THE PARTY SYSTEM part in 

ticket from the party distributor till he dropped it into the 
box, opened a wide door to bribery and intimidation. A grow- 
ing sense of these mischiefs roused at length the zeal of 
reformers. In 1885 a bill for the introduction of a really 
secret ballot was presented to the legislature of Michigan, 
and in 1888 such a measure, resembling in its outlines the 
ballot laws of Australia and those of the United Kingdom, was 
enacted in Massachusetts. The unprecedented scale on which 
money was illegitimately used in the presidential election of 
1888 provoked general alarm, and strengthened the hands 
of reformers so much that secret, or, as they are called, 
"Australian," ballot laws are now in force in all the States 
except seven; viz., North Carolina, South Carolina, Georgia, 
Louisiana, Florida, Texas, Idaho, all (except the last) States 
in the South, a part of the country where reforms make 
their way more slowly, and where one party has so marked a 
predominance that a provision for fair elections may seem 
matter of less urgency than in the more equally divided 
Northern States. It may cause surprise that communities 
which live in alarm at the large negro vote should not seize 
so simple a method of virtually excluding the bulk of that 
vote, but the reason is doubtless to be found in the fact that a 
secret ballot, unaccompanied by provisions for illiterate voters, 
would also exclude a considerable number of whites. How- 
ever, these seven States will probably ere long follow their 
sisters in the enactment of secret ballot laws, and the strength 
of the movement is witnessed by the fact that in three States, 
Mississippi, Texas, and Kentucky, provisions on the subject 
have been embodied in the constitutions, though, in the case 
of Texas, the legislature has not yet given effect to them by 
statute. 

The new laAVS of these thirty-seven States are of varying 
merit. As might be expected from the character of their 
legislatures, those of New York, Connecticut, and New Jersey 
are the worst. Nearly all the laws, however, provide for the 
official printing of the voting papers, for the inclusion of the 
names of all candidates upon the same paper, so that the voter 
must himself place his mark against those he desires to support, 
and for the depositing of the paper in the box by the voter in 
such manner as to protect him from observation. Thus secrecy 



chap, i.xvi ELECTIONS AND T11KIK MACHINERY 1-15 



has been nearly everywhere secured, and while independent 
candidates have a better chance, a heavy blow has been struck 
at bribery and intimidation. The practice of "peddling" the 
ballots at the polling place by the agents of the parties, which 
had reached portentous dimensions in New York, has in most 
places disappeared, while the extinction of the head of expenses 
incurred for this purpose, as well as for ballot printing, has 
diminished the pretext for levying assessments. Elections 
are far more orderly than they were, because more secret, and 
because the attendant crowd of those who peddle and hang 
about the polls, disposed to turbulence and ready for intimida- 
tion, has been much reduced. And it is an incidental gain 
that the most ignorant class of voters, who in the North are 
usually recent immigrants, have been in some States deprived 
of their votes, in others stimulated (as has happened to the 
more intelligent negroes in parts of the South) to improve 
their education, and fit themselves to vote. Even where pro- 
vision is made for the voting of illiterates, a certain disgrace, 
which citizens desire to escape, attaches to him who is forced to 
have recourse to this provision. The presidential election of 
1892, conducted in thirty-five States under these new laws, has 
approved their superiority to the old system, and has further 
encouraged the reformers, Avho have been surprised to find 
how rapidly success has crowned their efforts. For a final 
judgment, however, we must wait until time has shown how 
far the ingenuity of corrupt politicians may devise methods for 
evading the salutary provisions of the new statutes. 

So much for what may be called the machinery of voting. 
There are, however, several other questions that may be asked 
regarding an election system. One is, whether it is honestly 
carried out by the officials ? To this question no general 
answer can be given, because there are the widest possible 
differences between different States ; differences due chiefly to 
the variations in their election laws, but partly also to the 
condition of the public conscience. In some States the official 
conduct of elections is now believed to be absolutely pure, 
owing, one is told, to the excellence of a minutely careful law. 
In others, frauds, such as ballot stuffing and false counting, 
are said to be common, not only in city, but also in State and 
Federal elections. I have no data to determine how widely 

VOL. U L 



146 THE PARTY SYSTEM part hi 

frauds prevail, for their existence can rarely be proved, and 
they often escape detection. They are sometimes suspected 
where they do not exist. It is however clear that in some 
States they are frequent enough to constitute a serious re- 
proach. 1 

Another question is : Does the election machinery prevent 
intimidation, bribery, personation, repeating, and the other 
frauds which the agents of candidates or parties seek to perpe- 
trate ? Here, too, there are great differences between one 
State and city and another, differences due both to the laws 
and to the character of the population. Of intimidation there 
is now but little, save in a few cities, where roughs, or occa- 
sionally even the police, are said to molest a voter supposed to 
belong to the other party, or to be inclined to desert their own 
party. But till the enactment of the secret ballot laws, it 
sometimes happened that employers endeavoured to send 
their workingmen to the polls in a body in order to secure 
their votes; and the dislike to this was one of the motives 
which obtained popular favour for these laws. Eepeating and 
personation are not rare in dense populations, where the agents 
and officials do not. and cannot, know the voters' faces ; and 
these frauds are sometimes organized on a grand scale by 
bringing bands of roughs from one city to another. 

Bribery is a sporadic disease, but often intense when it 
occurs. Most parts of the Union are pure, as pure as Scotland, 
where from 1868 till 1892 there was only one election petition 
for alleged bribery. Other parts are no better than the small 
boroughs of Southern England were before the Corrupt Prac- 
tices Act of 1883. 2 No place, however, not even the poorest 

1 They were specially frequent, and are not extinct, in some of the Southern 
States, being there used to prevent the negro voters from returning Republican 
candidates. It was here that the use of " tissue ballots" was most common. 
I was told in San Francisco that elections had become more pure since the 
introduction of glass ballot boxes, which made it difficult for the presiding 
officials to stock the ballot box with voting papers before the voting began in 
the morning. After the election of 1893, nearly 100 election officers in New 
York City, about 25 in Brooklyn, and a good many in the smaller cities were 
indicted for offences against the election laws, and especially for permitting 
' ; repeaters" to vote, for accompanying voters into the booth on a false pre- 
tence of their blindness or physical incapacity, and for cheating in the count- 
ing of the votes. Many were convicted. 

2 The British general election of 1880 gave rise to no less than 95 petitions im- 
pugning returns on the ground of some form of corruption, and many were sus- 



chap, lxvi ELECTIONS AND THEIB MACHINERY 117 

ward in Ne"W York City, sinks below the level of such constit- 
uencies as Yarmouth, or Sandwich, used to be in England. 
Bribery is seldom practised in America in the same way as it 
used to be at Rome, by distributing small sums among a large 
mass of poor electors, or even, as in many English boroughs, 
among a section of voters (not always the poorest) known to be 
venal, and accustomed to reserve their votes till shortly before 
the close of the poll. The American practice has been to give 
sums of from $20 to $50 to an active local "worker," who 
undertakes to bring up a certain number of voters, perhaps 
twenty or thirty, whom he " owns " or can get at. He is not 
required to account for the money, and spends a comparatively 
small part of it in direct bribes, though something in drinks to 
the lower sort of elector. This kind of expenditure belongs 
to the category rather of paid canvassing than of bribery, yet 
sometimes the true European species occurs. In a ]S"ew 
Hampshire rural town not long ago, $10 were paid to each of 
two hundred doubtful voters. In some districts of jSTew r York 
the friends of a candidate will undertake, in case he is 
returned, to pay the rent of the poorest voters who occupy 
tenement houses, and the candidate subsequently makes up 
the amount. 1 The expenses of congressional and presidential 
elections are often heavy, and though the larger part goes in 
organization and demonstrations, meetings, torchlight pro- 
cessions, and so forth, a part is likely to go in some illicit way. 
A member of Congress for a poor district in a great city told me 
that his expenses ran from $8000 up to $10,000, which is just 
about what a parliamentary contest used to cost in an English 
borough constituency of equal area. In America the number 

tained. After the election of 1886 there was not a single petition. After that of 
1892 there were ten petitions alleging corrupt practices, and in three of these the 
election was declared void on the ground of such practices. This improvement 
must, however, he in some measure ascribed to the Redistribution Act of 1885, 
which extinguished the small boroughs. 

1 At a recent election in Brooklyn, a number of coloured voters sat (literally) 
on the fence in front of the polling booths, waiting to be bought, but were 
disappointed, the parties having agreed not to buy them. There is a good deal 
of bribery among the coloured voters in some of the cities: e.g. in those of 
Kentnrky and Southern Ohio. 

When there is a real issue before the voters, bribery diminishes. In the 
mayoralty contest of L886, in New York, the usually venal classes went 
straight for the Labour candidate, and would not be bought. 



148 THE PARTY SYSTEM paet hi 

of voters in a congressional district is more than rive times as 
great as in an average English constituency, but the official 
expenses of polling booths and clerks are not borne by the 
candidate. In a corrupt district along the Hudson River 
above New York I have heard of as much as $50,000 being 
spent at a single congressional election, when in some other 
districts of the State the expenses did not exceed $2000. In 
a presidential election great sums are spent in doubtful, or, as 
they are called, "pivotal" States. Indiana was "drenched 
with money " in 1880, much of it contributed by great corpora- 
tions, and a large part doubtless went in bribery. What part 
ever does go it is the harder to determine, because elections 
are rarely impeached on this ground, both parties tacitly 
agreeing that bygones shall be bygones. The election of 1888 
was one of the worst on record, so large was the expenditure 
in doubtful States. In that year well-informed Americans came 
to perceive that bribery at elections was a growing evil in 
their country, though even now they think it less noxious than 
either Bossism or election frauds. In 1883 the disease seemed 
to me no more diffused than it had been in England up to that 
date. In 1890 the shadows had grown darker ; and good citi- 
zens were evidently becoming anxious. 

This alarm has favoured the movement for the enactment 
of laws against corrupt practices. A few States have now 
passed such statutes. Those of Missouri and California are 
described as likely to prove efficient ; those of Massachusetts 
and Kansas, as less drastic, but fairly useful ; those of New 
York, Michigan, and Colorado, as amounting to little more than 
provisions for the compulsory publication of certain items of 
expenditure. In Pennsylvania it would appear that the acts 
are seldom put in force. The practice, so general in America, 
of conducting elections by a party committee, which makes its 
payments on behalf of all the candidates running in the same 
interests, renders it more difficult than it is in Britain to fix a 
definite limit to the expenditure, either by a candidate himself 
or upon the conduct of the election. However, the new Mis- 
souri law attempts this, fixing a low scale for "campaign 
expenditures," and imposing severe penalties on the receiver 
as well as giver of any bribe, whether to vote or to refrain 
from voting, a form in which bribery seems to be pretty fre- 



chap, i.xvi ELECTIONS AND THEIR MACHINERY 149 

quent. Other but much lighter penalties are imposed on the 
practice of treating. It seems probable that the example set 
by -Missouri and California will be largely followed, and that 
the blow struck at electoral corruption by the secret ballot 
laws will be followed up by a general limitation of expendi- 
tures. Whether the improvement will be permanent, and how 
deep it will go, is another question. It is always difficult to 
estimate the exact value of laws which propose to effect by 
mechanical methods reforms which in themselves are largely 
moral. This much, however, may be said, that while in all 
countries there is a proportion (varying from age to age and 
country to country) of good men who will act honourably 
whatever the law, and similarly a proportion of bad men who 
will try to break or evade the best laws, there is also a con- 
siderable number of men standing between these two classes, 
whose tendency to evil is not too strong to be repressed by 
law. and in whom a moral sense is sufficiently present to be 
capable of stimulation and education by a good law. Although 
it is true that you cannot make men moral by a statute, you 
can arm good citizens with weapons which improve their 
chances in the unceasing conflict with the various forms in 
which political dishonesty appears. The value of weapons, 
however, depends upon the energy of those who use them. 
These improved Ballot acts and Corrupt Practices acts need to 
be vigorously enforced, and the disposition, of which there have 
been some signs, to waive the penalties they impose, and to 
treat election frauds and other similar offences as trivial mat- 
ters, would go far to nullify the effect to be expected from 
the statutes. 

Strong arguments have been adduced in favour of another 
reform in election laws, viz., the trial of contested elections, not, 
as now, by the legislative body to which the candidate claims 
to have been chosen, but by a court of law. The determinations 
of a legislature are almost invariably coloured by party feel- 
ing, and are usually decided by a party majority in favour of 
the contestant whose admission would increase their strength. 
Hence they obtain little respect, while corrupt or illegal prac- 
tices do not receive their due condemnation in the avoidance 
of the election they have tainted. Against these considera- 
tions there must be set the danger that the judges who try 



150 THE PARTY SYSTEM part hi 

such cases may sometimes show, or be thought to show, polit- 
ical partisanship, and that the credit of the bench may thus 
suffer. The experience of England, where disputed parlia- 
mentary elections have since 1867 been tried by judges of the 
superior courts, and municipal elections since 1883 by county 
court judges, does not wholly dispose of this apprehension; 
for it happens every now and then that judges are accused of 
partiality, or at least of an unconscious bias. Still, British 
opinion decidedly prefers the present system to the old one. 
In the United States the validity of the election of an executive 
officer sometimes comes before the courts, and the courts, as 
a rule, decide such cases with a fairness which inspires general 
confidence. The balance of reason and authority seems to lie 
with those who, like ex-Speaker Keed, himself a hearty party 
man, have advocated the change. It was proposed as a con- 
stitutional amendment by the legislature of Xew York to 
the voters in 1892, but rejected, under circumstances, how- 
ever, which do not forbid the hope that it may eventually 
prevail. 

Xot satisfied, however, with the purification of election 
methods, some reformers go further, and have proposed to 
render the ballot box a more complete representation of the 
will of the people by making voting compulsory. The idea is 
not quite new; in some Greek States citizens were compelled 
to attend the Assembly : similar provisions were to be found in 
parts of the United States in the last century, while in modern 
Switzerland several cantons fine electors who fail to vote at 
elections or when laws are proposed under a referendum. The 
Swiss evidence as to the merits of the plan is not uniform. In 
St. Gallen, for instance, where it was introduced so far back 
as 1835, it seems to have worked well, while in Solothurn it 
proved ineffective, and was ultimately abolished. On the 
whole, however, the effect would seem to have been to bring 
out a comparatively heavy vote, sometimes reaching 83 and even 
84 per cent of the registered electors, though it deserves to be 
noticed that the cantons in which the plan exists are, speaking 
generally, those in which political life is anyhow most active. 1 
In the United States, however, abstention from voting does 

1 1 quote from a paper by M. Simon Deploige in the Belgian Revue Generate 
for March, 1893. 



H.M-. i.xm ELECTIONS AND THEIB MACHINERY 151 



not appeal to be a very serious, and certainly is not a growing, 
evil. City and State elections sometimes fail to draw even 
three-fourths of the voters to the polls ; but in the presi- 
dential election of 1880, a year coinciding with that of the 
national census, and therefore suitable for investigation, <S4 
per cent of the qualified voters in the whole United Stales 
actually tendered their votes, while of the remaining 16 per 
cent fully three-fourths can be accounted for by illness, old 
age. necessary eauses of absence, and, in the case of the South- 
ern negroes, intimidation, leaving not more than 4 per cent out 
of the total number of voters who may seem to have stayed 
away from pure indifference. 1 This is a good result as com- 
pared with Germany, where, in 1887, only 77 per cent of the 
qualified voters came to the polls, or with the United Kingdom, 
where, at the parliamentary election of 1892, an election of 
unprecedented excitement, about 77 per cent of the electors 
seem to have voted in those constituencies where there was a 
contest, the figures being : for England, 78 per cent ; for Scot- 
land. 78 ; for Wales, 75, and for Ireland, 66. It is right to add 
that, owing to the defects of the British registration laws, 
there were probably more names on the register in proportion 
to the number actually in a position to come to the poll than 
would be the case in the United States or in Germany. In the 
presidential election of 1892 the total number of votes cast 
showed only about half the increase on 1888 which the esti- 
mated growth of population ought to have given. This ab- 
stention, however, may have been largely due not to indifference, 
but to an unwillingness in one party to support the party candi- 
date. 

The plan of compelling men to vote on pain of being fined 
or incurring some disability, though it has found some favour 
in America, is not likely to be adopted, and one of the argu- 
ments against it is indicated by the cause suggested for the 
abstentions of 1892. It is not desirable to deprive electors 
displeased by the nomination of a candidate of the power of 
protesting against him by declining to vote at all. At present, 
when bad nominations are made, independent voters can ex- 
press their disapproval by refusing to vote for these candidates. 

1 The subject is examined with care and acuteness by Professor A. B. Hart 
iu his Practical Essays on American Government. 



152 THE PARTY SYSTEM 



Were voting compulsory, they would probably, so strong is party 
spirit, vote for these bad men rather than for their opponents, 
not to add that the opponents might be equally objectionable. 
Thus the power of party leaders and of the machine gen- 
erally might be increased. I doubt, however, whether such 
a law as suggested could, if enacted, be effectively enforced ; 
and it is not well to add another to the list of half-executed 
statutes. 

The abuse of the right of appointing election officers can 
hardly be called a corrupt practice ; yet it has in some places, 
and notably in New York City, caused serious mischiefs. 
There elections have been under the control of the Police Board, 
consisting of four commissioners, two of whom are required 
by law to be Democrats, two to be Republicans. 1 By a statute 
of 1892, this Board is directed to appoint in each of the 1187 
election districts of the city, three inspectors of elections, two 
of whom are to belong to the party which cast the greatest 
number of votes in the last preceding election, and one to the 
party which cast the next greatest number. This audacious 
piece of partisanship has given the dominant faction in the city 
the command of a great number of paid places wherewith to 
reward its adherents. The cost of the three inspectors, two poll 
clerks, and two ballot clerks in the 1187 districts is $178,800 ; 
and the selection of shops or other buildings as polling places, 
with the nomination to some other election posts, adds still 
further to the mass of patronage, and enables the party Machine 
to benefit no small part of its adherents at the cost of the 
city. Taken along with the practice of treating all, or nearly 
all, appointments in the service of the city as party spoils, 
it provides a Machine with a large number of paid workers in 
each Assembly district, who can be depended on to fight hard 
and constantly for the party, and especially to enrol recruits 
and bring them up to the poll. The statute, it is right to 
add, has received much censure, and may probably be soon 
repealed. 

. 1 This statutory recognition of party as a qualification for office is not 
unusual in America, having been found necessary to ensure an approach to 
equality of distribution between the parties of the posts of election officers, 
for the fairness of -whose action it was essential that there should be some sort 
of guarantee. 



chap, lxvi ELECTIONS AND THEIR MACHINERY L68 



The particular form oi' evil here described still flourishes like 
a green bay tree. But on the whole, as will have been gathered 
from this chapter, the record of recent progress is encouraging, 
and not least encouraging in this, that the corrupt politicians 
themselves have been forced to accept and pass measures of 
reform which public opinion, previously apathetic or ignorant, 
had been aroused by a few energetic voices to demand. 



CHAPTER LXVII 

CORRUPTION 

No impression regarding American politics is more generally 
diffused in Europe than that contained in the question which 
the traveller who has returned from the United States becomes 
so weary of being asked, " Isn't everybody corrupt there ? " It 
is an impression for which the Americans themselves, with their 
airy way of talking about their own country, their fondness for 
broad effects, their enjoyment of a good story and humorous 
pleasure in exaggerations generally, are largely responsible. 
European visitors who, generally belonging to the wealthier 
classes, are generally reactionary in politics, and glad to find 
occasion for disparaging popular government, eagerly catch up 
and repeat the stories they are told in New York or San 
Francisco. European readers take literally the highly coloured 
pictures of some American novels and assume that the descrip- 
tions there given of certain men and groups " inside politics " 
— descriptions legitimate enough in a novel — hold true of all 
men and groups following that unsavoury trade. Europeans, 
moreover, and Englishmen certainly not less than other Euro- 
peans, have a useful knack of forgetting their own shortcomings 
when contemplating those of their neighbours ; so you may hear 
men wax eloquent over the depravity of transatlantic politicians 
who will sail very near the wind in giving deceptive pledges to 
their own constituents, who will support flagrant jobs done on 
behalf of their own party, who will accept favours from, and 
dine with, and receive at their own houses, financial speculators 
and members of the legislature whose aims are just as base, and 
whose standard is just as low as those of the worst congressman 
that ever came to push his fortune in Washington. 

I am sensible of the extreme difficulty of estimating the 
amount of corruption that prevails in the United States. If a 

154 



chap, lxvii CORRUPTION 165 

native American does not know — as few do — how deep it goes 
nor how widely it is spread, much less can a stranger. 1 have, 
however, submitted the impressions I formed to the judgment 
of some fair-minded and experienced American friends, and am 
assured by them that these impressions are substantially correct; 
that is to say. that they give a view of the facts such as they 
have themselves formed from an observation incomparably 
wider than that of a European traveller could be. 

The word " corruption " needs to be analyzed. It is used to 
cover several different kinds of political unsoundness. 

One sense, the most obvious, is the taking or giving of money 
bribes. Another sense is the taking or giving of bribes in kind, 
e.ij. the allotment of a certain quantity of stock or shares in a 
company, or of an interest in a profitable contract, or of a land 
grant. The offence is essentially the same as where a money 
bribe passes, but to most people it does not seem the same, 
partly because the taking of money is a more unmistakable 
selling of one's self, partly because it is usually uncertain how 
the bribe given in kind will turn out, and a man excuses him- 
self by thinking that its value will depend on how he develops 
the interest he has obtained. A third sense of the word 
includes the doing of a job, e.g. promising a contractor that 
he shall have the clothing of the police or the cleaning of the 
city thoroughfares in return for his political support ; giving 
official advertisements to a particular newspaper which puffs 
you; promising a railroad president, whose subscription to 
party funds is hoped for, to secure the defeat of a bill seeking 
to regulate the freight charges of his road or threatening its 
land grants. These cases shade off into those of the last pre- 
ceding group, but they seem less black, because the act done is 
one which would probably be done anyhow by some one else 
from no better motive, and because the turpitude consists not 
in getting a private gain, but in misusing a public position to 
secure a man's own political advancement. Hence the virtue 
that will resist a bribe will often succumb to these tempta- 
tions. 

There is also the sense in which the bestowal of places of 
power and profit from personal motives is said to be a corrupt 
exercise of patronage. Opinion has in all countries been lenient 
to such action when the place is given as a reward of party 



156 THE PARTY SYSTEM part hi 

services, but the line between a party and a personal service 
cannot be easily drawn. 

Then, lastly, one sometimes hears the term stretched to cover 
insincerity in professions of political faith. To give pledges 
and advocate measures which one inwardly dislikes and deems 
opposed to the public interest is a form of misconduct which 
seems far less gross than to sell one's vote or influence, but it 
may be, in a given instance, no less injurious to the State. 

Although these two latter sets of cases do not fall within the 
proper meaning and common use of the word " corruption," it 
seems worth while to mention them, because derelictions of 
duty which a man thinks trivial in the form with which cus- 
tom has made him familiar in his own country, where perhaps 
they are matter for merriment, shock him when they appear 
in a different form in another country. They get mixed up in 
his mind with venality, and are cited to prove that the country 
is corrupt and its politicians profligate. A European who does 
not blame a minister for making a man governor of a colony 
because he has done some back-stairs parliamentary work, will 
be shocked at seeing in New York some one put into the 
custom-house in order that he may organize primaries in the 
district of the congressman who has got him the place. Eng- 
lish members of Parliament condemn the senator who moves 
a resolution intended to " placate " the Irish vote, while they 
forget their own professions of ardent interest in schemes 
which they think economically unsound but likely to rouse the 
flagging interest of the agricultural labourer. Distinguishing 
these senses in which the word " corruption " is used, let us 
attempt to inquire how far it is chargeable on the men who 
compose each of the branches of the American Federal and 
State government. 

No President has ever been seriously charged with pecuniary 
corruption. The Presidents have been men very different in 
their moral standard, and sometimes neither scrupulous nor 
patriotic, but money or money's worth they have never touched 
for themselves, great as the temptations must have been to 
persons with small means and heavy expenses. They have 
doubtless often made bad appointments from party motives, 
have sought to strengthen themselves by the use of their 
patronage, have talked insincerely and tolerated jobs ; but all 



chap. Lxvn CORRUPTION 157 

these things have also been done within the last thirty years 
by sundry English, French, and [talian prime ministers, some 
of whom have since 1 been canonized. 

The standard of honour maintained by the Presidents has not 
always been maintained by the leading members of recent 
administrations, several of whom have been suspected of com- 
plicity in railroad jobs, and even in frauds upon the revenue. 
They may not have probably they did not, put any part of the 
plunder into their own pockets, but they have winked at the 
misdeeds of their subordinates, and allowed the party funds to 
be replenished, not by direct malversation, yet by rendering 
services to influential individuals or corporations which a strict 
sense of public duty would have forbidden. On the other 
hand, it is fair to say that there seems to be no case since the 
war — although there was a bad case in President Buchanan's 
Cabinet just before the war — in which a member of the Cabi- 
net has received money, or its equivalent, as the price of either 
an executive act or an appointment, while inferior officials, 
who have been detected in so doing (and this occasionally 
happens), have been dismissed and disgraced. 1 

Xext, as to Congress. It is particularly hard to discover the 
truth about Congress, for few of the abundant suspicions ex- 
cited and accusations brought against senators or members of 
the House have been, or could have been, sifted to the bottom. 
Among four hundred and fifty men there w r ill be the clean and 
the unclean. The opportunities for private gain are large, the 
chances of detection small ; few members keep their seats for 
three or four successive congresses, and one-half are changed 
every two years, so the temptation to make hay while the sun 
shines is all the stronger. 

There are several forms which temptation takes in the Fed- 
eral legislature. One is afforded by the position a member 
holds on a committee. All bills and many resolutions are 
referred to some one of the committees, and it is in the com- 
mittee-room that their fate is practically decided. In a small 
body each member has great power, and the exercise of power 
(as observed alread} r ) 2 is safeguarded by little responsibility. 

1 The so-called Whiskey Ring of 1875 and the Star Route gang of more 
recent times are perhaps the most conspicuous instances of misconduct in the 
civil service. 2 See Chapter XV. in Vol. I. on the Committees of Congress. 



158 THE PARTY SYSTEM part hi 

He may materially advance a bill promoted by an influential 
manufacturer, or financier, or railroad president. He may 
obstruct it. He may help, or may oppose, a bill directed against 
a railroad or other wealthy corporation, which has something 
to gain or lose from Federal legislation. 1 Xo small part of the 
business of Congress is what would be called in England pri- 
vate business ; and although the individual railroads which 
come directly into relation with the Federal government are 
not numerous, — the great transcontinental lines which have 
received land grants or other subventions are the most impor- 
tant, — questions affecting these roads have frequently come up 
and have involved large amounts of money. The tariff on im- 
ports opens another enormous sphere in which legislative inter- 
vention affects private pecuniary interests ; for it makes all 
the difference to many sets of manufacturers whether duties on 
certain classes of goods are raised, or maintained, or lowered. 
Hence the doors of Congress are besieged by a whole army of 
commercial or railroad men and their agents, to whom, since 
they have come to form a sort of profession, the name of Lob- 
byists is given. 2 Many congressmen are personally interested, 
and lobby for themselves among their colleagues from the van- 
tage-ground of their official positions. 

Thus a vast deal of solicitation and bargaining goes on. 
Lobbyists offer considerations for help iu passing a bill which 
is desired or in stopping a bill which is feared. Two members, 
each of whom has a bill to get through, or one of whom desires 
to prevent his railroad from being interfered with while the 
other wishes the tariff on an article which he manufactures 
kept up, make a compact by which each aids the other. This 
is Log-rolling : You help me to roll my log, which is too heavy 
for my unaided strength, and I help you to roll yours. Some- 
times a member brings in a bill directed against some railroad 
or other great corporation, merely in order to levy blackmail 

1 1 remember to have heard of the governor of a Western Territory who, 
when he came East, nsed to borrow money from the head of a great railway 
which traversed his Territory, saying he would oblige the railway when it 
found occasion to ask him. His power of obliging included the right to veto 
bills passed hj the Territorial legislature. This governor was an ex-boss of 
an Eastern State whom his party had provided for by bestowing the governor- 
ship on him. 

2 See ante, Note (B) to Chapter XVI. in Appendix to Vol. I. 



chap, lxvii CORRUPTION 160 



upon it. This is technically called ;i Strike. An eminent rail- 
road president told me that for some years a certain senator 
regularly practised this trick. When he had brought in his 

bill he came straight to New York, called at the railroad offices, 
and asked the president what he would give hi in to withdraw 
the bill. That the Capitol and the hotels at Washington are 
a nest of such intrigues and machinations, while Congress is 
sitting, is admitted on all hands; but how many of the mem- 
are tainted no one can tell. Sometimes when money 
passes, it gors not to the member of Congress himself, but to 
some Boss who can and does put pressure on him. Sometimes, 
again, a lobbyist will demand a sum for the purpose of bribing 
a member who is really honest, and. having ascertained that 
the member is going to vote in the way desired, will keep the 
sum in his own pocket. Bribery often takes the form of a 
transfer of stocks or shares, nor have even free passes on rail- 
roads been scorned by some of the more needy legislators. 
The abuse on this head had grown so serious that the bestowal 
of passes was forbidden [on inter-State lines] by Federal statute 
in 1SS7, and is now forbidden by the Constitutions of many 
States. 1 In 1SS3 portions of a correspondence in the years 
-7S between Mr. Huntington, one of the proprietors and 
directors of the Central Pacific Eailroad. Avho then represented 
that powerful corporation at Washington, and one of his agents 
in California, were published ; and from these it appeared that 
the company, whose land grants were frequently threatened 
by hostile bills, and which was exposed to the competition of 
rival enterprises, which (because they were to run through Ter- 
ritories) Congress was asked to sanction, defended itself by 
constant dealings with senators and representatives — dealings 
in the course of which it offered money and bonds to those 
whose support it needed. 2 

1 All lines traversing the territory of more than one State are subject to 
the power of Congress to " regulate commerce." As to free passes, see the 
instructive remarks of the Inter-State Commerce Commission in their First 
Report. The irrant by the State of free passes on railways to members of the 
Chambers has led to abuses in Italy. 

- Mr. Huntinj^ton comments freely on the character of various members of 
l>oth Houses, and describes not only his own operations, but those of Mr. 
Beott, his able and active opponent, who had the ^reat advantage of being 
able to command passes on some railways running out of Washington. In one 
letter he uses a graphic and characteristic metaphor: " Scott has switched off 



160 THE PARTY SYSTEM part hi 

It does not seem, from what one hears on the spot, that 
money is often given, or, I should rather say, it seems that the 
men to whom it is given are few in number. But considera- 
tions of some kind pretty often pass, 1 so that corruption in 
both the first and second of the above senses must be admitted 
to exist and to affect a portion, though only a small portion, of 
Congress. 2 A position of some delicacy is occupied by eminent 
lawyers who sit in Congress and receive retainers from power- 
ful corporations whose interests may be affected by congres- 
sional legislation, retainers for which they are often not expected 
to render any forensic service. 3 There are various ways in which 
members of Congress can use their position to advance their 
personal interests. They have access to the executive, and 
can obtain favours from it ; not so much because the executive 
cares what legislation they pass, for it has little to do with 
legislation, but that the members of the Cabinet are on their 
promotion, and anxious to stand well with persons whose influ- 
ence covers any considerable local area, who may perhaps be 
even able to control the delegation of a State in a nominating 
convention. Hence a senator or congressman may now and 
then sway the executive towards a course it would not other- 
wise have taken, and the resulting gain to himself, or to some 
person who has invoked his influence, may be an illicit gain, 
probably not in the form of money, but as a job out of which 
something may be made. Again, it has been hitherto an impor- 
tant part of a member's duty to obtain places for his constitu- 
ents in the Federal civil service. There are about 130,000 of 

(i.e. off the Central Pacific track and on to his own railroad track) Senators 
S. and W., hut you know they can be switched back with the proper arrange- 
ments when they are wanted." 

The Report of the U. S. Pacific Railway Commission says of these transac- 
tions, "There is no room for doubt that a large portion of the sum of $4,818,000 
was used for the purpose of influencing legislation and of preventing the 
passage of measures deemed to be hostile to the interests of the company, and 
for the purpose of influencing elections." —Report, p. 84. 

1 The president of a great Western Railroad told me that Congressmen used 
to come to the company's office to buy its land, and on seeing the price-list 
would say, " But isn't there a discount ? Surely you can give the land cheaper 
to a friend. You know I shall be your friend in Congress," and so forth. 

2 Among the investigations which disclosed the existence of bribery among 
members of Congress, the most prominent since that of 1856-57 are those of the 
Credit Mobilier and the Pacific Mail cases. 

3 See Vol. I., p. 121, note. 



chaf. lxvii CORRUPTION 161 

such planes. Here was a vast field, if not for pecuniary gain, 
for appointments are not sold, yet for the gratification of per- 
sonal and party interests. Nor does the mischief stop with 
the making of inferior appointments, for the habit of ignoring 
public duty which is formed blunts men's sense of honour, and 
makes them more apt to yield to some grosser form of tempta- 
tion. Similar causes produced similar effects during last cen- 
tury in England, and it is said that the French legislature now 
Buffers from the like malady, members of the Chamber being 
incessantly occupied in wheedling or threatening the executive 
into conferring places and decorations upon their constituents. 

The rank and hie of the Federal civil service attain a level 
of integrity as high as that of England or Germany. The 
State civil service is comparatively small, and in most States 
one hears little said against it ; yet cases of defaulting State 
treasurers are not uncommon. Taking one part of the coun- 
try with another, a citizen who has business with a govern- 
ment department, such as the customs or excise, or with a 
State treasurer's office, or with a poor law or school authority, 
has as much expectation of finding honest men to deal with as 
he has of finding trustworthy agents to conduct a piece of 
private commercial business. Instances of dishonesty are 
more noticed when they occur in a public department, but 
they seem to be little (if at all) more frequent. 

It is hard to form a general judgment regarding the State 
legislatures, because they differ so much among themselves. 
Those of Massachusetts, Vermont, and several of the North- 
western States, such as Michigan, are pure, i.e. the members 
who would take a bribe are but few, and those who would 
push through a job for some other sort of consideration a com- 
paratively small fraction of the whole. 1 Even in the North-west, 
however, a wealthy man has great advantages in securing a Fed- 
eral senatorship at the hands of the legislature. Some States, 
including New York and Pennsylvania, have so bad a name 
that people are surprised when a good act passes, and a strong 
governor is kept constantly at work vetoing bills corruptly 
obtained. Several causes have contributed to degrade the 

1 The new Western (including the Territorial) legislatures vary greatly 
from time to time. Sometimes they are quite pure ; the next election under 
some demagogic impulse may bring in a crowd of mischievous adventurers. 
... U M. 



162 THE PARTY SYSTEM part hi 

legislature of New York State. The Assembly having but 
128 members, and the Senate 32, each member is worth buy- 
ing. There are in the State, besides New York and Brooklyn, 
several smaller King-governed cities whence bad members 
come. There are also immensely powerful corporations, such 
as the great railroads which traverse it on their way to the 
AYest. Great corporations are everywhere the bane of State 
politics, for their management is secret, being usually in the 
hands of one or two capitalists, and their wealth is so large 
that they can offer bribes at which ordinary virtue grows pale. 
They have, moreover, in many cases this excuse, that it is only 
by the use of money they can ward off the attacks constantly 
made upon them by demagogues or blackmailers. The Assem- 
bly includes many honest men, and a few rich men who do 
not need a douceur, but the proportion of tainted men is large 
enough to pollute the whole lump. Of what the bribe-taker 
gets he keeps a part for himself, using the rest to buy the 
doubtful votes of purchasable people ; to others he promises 
his assistance when they need it, and when by such log-rolling 
he has secured a considerable backing, he goes to the honest 
men, among whom, of course, he has a considerable acquaint- 
ance, puts the matter to them in a plausible way, — they are 
probably plain farmers from the rural districts, — and so gains 
his majority. Each great corporation keeps an agent at Albany, 
the capital of the State, who has authority to buy off the pro- 
moters of hostile bills, and to employ the requisite profes- 
sional lobbyists. Such a lobbyist, who may or may not be 
himself a member, bargains for a sum down, $5000 or $10,000, 
in case he succeeds in getting the bill in question passed or 
defeated, as the case may be ; and when the session ends he 
comes for his money, and no questions are asked. This sort 
of thing now goes on, or has lately gone on, in several other 
States, though nowhere on so grand a scale. Yirginia, Mary- 
land, California, Illinois, Missouri, are all more or less impure; 
Louisiana, under the influence of its lottery company (now 
happily at an end) , was even worse than Xew York. But the 
lowest point was reached in some of the Southern States 
shortly after the war, when, the negroes having received the 
suffrage, the white inhabitants were still excluded as rebels, 
and the executive government was conducted by Xorthern 



chv r. i.x mi CORRUPTION 163 

carpet-baggers under the protection of Federal troops. In 
some States the treasury was pilfered; huge State debts were 
run up ; negroes voted farms to themselves ; all kinds of rob- 
bery and jobbery went on unchecked. South Carolina, for 
instance, was a perfect Tartarus of corruption, as much below 
the Hades of Illinois or Missouri as the heaven of ideal purity 
is above the ordinary earth of Boston and Westminster. 1 In its 
legislature there was an old darkey, jet black and with vener- 
able white hair, a Methodist preacher, and influential among 
his brother stales men, who kept a stall for legislation, where 
he dealt in statutes at prices varying from $ 100 to $400. 
Since those days there has been a peaceful revolution for the 
better at the South, but some of its legislative bodies have 
still much leeway to make up. 

Of city governments I have spoken in previous chapters. 
They begin to be bad when the population approaches 100,000, 
and includes a large proportion of recent immigrants. They 
are generally pure in smaller places, that is to say, nearly as 
pure as those of an average English, French, or German city. 

The form w r hich corruption usually takes in the populous 
cities is the grant at a wholly inadequate price of " franchises " 
(especially monopolies in the use of public thoroughfares), — 
a frequent and scandalous practice, 2 — the jobbing of contracts, 
and the bestowal of places upon personal adherents, both of them 
faults not unknown in large European municipalities, and said to 
be specially rife in Paris, though no rif er than under Louis Napo- 
leon, when the reconstruction of the city under Prefect Hauss- 
man provided unequalled opportunities for the enrichment 
of individuals at the public expense. English vestries, local 
boards, and even, though much more rarely, town councils, do 
some quiet jobbery. No European city has, however, witnessed 
scandals approaching those of New York or Philadelphia, where 
the public till has been robbed on a vast scale, and accounts 
have been systematically cooked to conceal the thefts. 

On a review of the whole matter, the following conclusions 
may be found not very wide of the truth. 

1 Toa'croi/ tvep8' Ai5eu> '6<rov ovpavds £<tt aTrb •your)?. 

2 The most notorious recent case is the sale by the New York aldermen of 
the right to lay a tramway in Broadway. Nearly the whole number were 
indicted, and some were punished by imprisonment. 



164 THE PARTY SYSTEM part in 

Bribery exists in Congress, but is confined to a few members, 
say five per cent of the whole number. It is more common in 
the legislatures of a few, but only a few States, practically 
absent from the higher walks of the Federal civil service, rare 
among the chief State officials, not frequent among the lower 
officials, unknown among the Federal judges, rare among State 
judges. 1 

The taking of other considerations than money, such as a 
share in a lucrative contract, or a railway pass, or a "good 
thing " to be secured for a friend, prevails among legislators to 
a somewhat larger extent. Being less coarsely palpable than 
the receipt of money, it is thought more venial. One may 
roughly conjecture that from fifteen to twenty per cent of the 
members of Congress or of an average State legislature would 
allow themselves to be influenced by inducements of this kind. 

Malversation of public funds occurs occasionally in cities, less 
frequently among Federal or State officers. 

Jobbery of various kinds, i.e. the misuse of a public position 
for the benefit of individuals, is not rare, and in large cities 
common. It is often disguised as a desire to render some ser- 
vice to the party, and the same excuse is sometimes found for 
a misappropriation of public money. 

Patronage is usually dispensed with a view to party consid- 
erations or to win personal support. But this remark is equally 
true of England and France, the chief difference being that 
owing to the short terms and frequent removals the quantity 
of patronage is relatively greater in the United States. 

If this is not a bright picture, neither is it so dark as that 
which most Europeans have drawn, and which the loose 
language of many Americans sanctions. What makes it seem 
dark is the contrast between the deficiencies which the govern- 
ment shows in this respect, and the excellence, on the one hand, 
of the frame of the Constitution, on the other, of the tone and 
sentiment of the people. The European reader may, however, 
complain that the picture is vague in its outlines. I cannot 
make it more definite. The facts are not easy to ascertain, and 

1 Senators are often charged with buying themselves into the Senate ; but, 
so far as I could ascertain, it does not often happen that a candidate for the 
Senate directly bribes members of the State legislature, though frequently he 
makes heavy contributions to the party election fund, used to defray the elec- 
tion expenses of the members of the party dominant in the State legislature. 



CORRUPTION 



it is hard to say what standard one is to apply to them. In the 
case of America men are inclined to apply a rigid standard, 
because she is a republic, professing to have made a new 
departure in politics, and setting before her a higher ideal than 
most European monarchies. Yet it must be remembered that 
in a new and large country, where the temptations are enormous 
and the persons tempted have many of them no social position 
to forfeit, the conditions are not the most favourable to virtue. 
If. recognizing the fact that the path of the politician is in all 
countries thickly set with snares, we leave ideals out of sight 
and try America by the average concrete standard of Europe, 
we shall find that while her legislatures fall much below the 
level of purity maintained in England and Germany, and also 
below that of France and Italy, the whole body of her Federal 
officials, in spite of the evils flowing from an uncertain tenure, 
is not, in point of integrity, at this moment markedly inferior 
to the administrations of most European countries. The same 
may be said of the State officials. It cannot, however, be said 
of those who administer the business of the larger cities, for 
the standard of purity has there sunk to a point lower than 
that which the municipalities of any European country show. 



CHAPTER LXVIII 

THE WAR AGAINST B0SSD0M 

It must not be supposed the inhabitants of Ring-ruled cities 
tamely submit to their tyrants. The Americans are indeed, 
what with their good nature and what with the preoccupation 
of the most active men in their private business, a long-suffering 
people. But patience has its limits, and when a Ring has 
pushed paternal government too far, an insurrection may break 
out. Rings have generally the sense to scent the coming storm, 
and to avert it by making two or three good nominations, and 
promising a reduction of taxes. Sometimes, however, they 
hold on their course fearless and shameless, and then the storm 
breaks upon them. 

There are several forms which a reform movement or other 
popular rising takes. The recent history of great cities supplies 
examples of each. The first form is an attack upon the pri- 
maries. They are the key of a Ring's position, and when they 
have been captured their batteries can be turned against the 
Ring itself. When an assault upon the Bosses is resolved 
upon, the first thing is to form a committee. It issues a mani- 
festo calling on all good citizens to attend the primaries of 
their respective wards, and there vote for delegates opposed to 
the Ring. The newspapers take the matter up, and repeat the 
exhortation. As each primary is held, on the night fixed by 
the ward committee of the regular (that is the Ring) organiza- 
tion, some of the reformers appear at it, and propose a list of 
delegates, between whom and the Ring's list a vote of the 
members of the primary is taken. This may succeed in some 
of the primaries, but rarely in a majority of them ; because 
(as explained in a previous chapter) the rolls seldom or never 
include the whole party voters of the ward, having been pre- 
pared by the professionals in their own interest. Sometimes 

166 



chap. Lxviu THE WAli AGAINST BOSSDOM 107 

only one-fourth or one-fifth of the voters are on the primary 
roll, and these are of course the men on whom the Ring can 
rely. Hence, even it the good citizens of the district, obeying 
tit' call o( patriotism and the Reform Committee, present them- 
selves at the primary, they may find so few of their number on 
the roll that they will be outvoted by the ringsters. But the 
most serious difficulty is the apathy of the respectable, steady- 
going part of the population to turn out in sufficient numbers. 
They have their engagements of business or pleasure to attend 
to, or it is a snowy night and their wives persuade them to 
stay indoors. The well-conducted men of small means are an 
eminently domestic class, who think they do quite enough for 
the city and the nation if they vote at the polls. It is still 
more difficult to induce the rich to interest themselves in con- 
reeable work. They find themselves at a primary 
in strange and uncongenial surroundings. Accustomed to be 
treated with deference in their counting-house or manufactory, 
they are jostled by a rough crowd, and find that their servants 
or workmen are probably better known and more influential 
than they are themselves. They recognize by sight few of the 
persons present, for, in a city, acquaintance does not go by 
proximity of residence, and are therefore at a disadvantage for 
combined action, whereas the professional politicians are a 
regiment where every private in each company knows his 
fellow-private and obeys the officers. Hence, the best, perhaps 
the only chance of capturing a primary is by the action of a 
group of active young men who will take the trouble of organ- 
izing the movement by beating up the members of the party 
who reside in the district, and bearding the local bosses in the 
meeting. It is a rough and toilsome piece of work, but young- 
men find a compensation in the fun which is to be had out of 
the fight ; and when a victory is won, theirs is the credit. To 
carry a few primaries is only the first step. The contest has 
to be renewed in the convention, where the odds are still in 
favour of the professionals, who " know the ropes " and may 
possibly outwit even a majority of Eeform delegates. The 
managing committee is in their hands, and they can generally 
secure a chairman in their interests. Experience has accord- 
ingly shown that this method of attacking the Machine very 
rarely succeeds ; and though the duty of attending the pri- 



106 THE PARTY SYSTEM 



maries continues to be preached, the advice shares the fate of 
most sermons. Once in a way, the respectable voter will rouse 
himself, but he cannot be trusted to continue to do so year 
after year. He is like those citizen-soldiers of ancient Greece 
who would turn out for a summer inroad into the enemy's 
country, but refused to keep the field through the autumn and 
winter. 

A second expedient, which may be tried instead of the first, 
or resorted to after the first has been tried and failed, is to 
make an independent list of nominations and run a separate 
set of candidates. If this strategy be resolved on, the prima- 
ries are left unheeded; but when the election approaches, a 
committee is formed which issues a list of candidates for some 
or all of the vacant offices in opposition to the " regular " list 
issued by the party convention, and conducts the agitation on 
their behalf. This saves all trouble in primaries or conven- 
tions, but involves much trouble in elections, because a com- 
plete campaign corps has to be organized, and a campaign fund 
raised. 1 Moreover, the average voter, not having followed 
politics closely enough to comprehend his true duty and inter- 
est, and yielding to his established party habits, inclines, 
especially in State and Federal elections, to vote the " regular 
ticket." He starts with a certain prejudice against those who 
are " troubling Israel " by dividing the party, because he sees 
that in all probability the result will be not to carry the Inde- 
pendent ticket, but to let in the candidates of the opposite 
party. Hence the bolting Independents can rarely hope to 
carry with them enough of their own party to enable them to 
win the election. The result of their action will rather be 
to bring in the candidates of the other side, who may be no 
better than the men on the ticket of their own Eing. Accord- 
ingly, reformers have become reluctant to take this course, for 

1 " To run an anti-machine candidate for mayor it is necessary to organize 
a new machine at an expense of from $60,000 to 8100,000 (£12,000 to £20,000), 
with a chance of his being ' sold out ' then hy the men who are hired to 
distribute his ballots." — Mr. J. R. Bishop in a paper on "Money in City 
Elections," written in 1887. Now that the new laws of most States provide for 
official voting papers, the last mentioned risk has disappeared, but the expense 
of getting up anew election organization is still heavy. Some one has said that 
the difference between running as a regular candidate and running on your own 
account as an independent candidate, is like the difference between travelling 
by railway and making a new railway of your own to travel by. 



chap, i.xvni THE WAB AGAINST BOSSDOM 169 



though it has the merit of relieving their feelings, it exposes 
them to odium, involves great labour, and effects nothing more 
than may be obtained by one or other of the two methods 
which 1 have next to describe. 

The third plan is to abstain from voting for the names on 
your party ticket to whom yon object. This is Scratching. 
You arc spared the trouble of running candidates of your own, 
but your abstention, if the parties are nearly balanced, causes 
the defeat of the bad candidates whom your own party puts for- 
ward, and brings in those of the other party. This is a good 
plan when yon want to frighten a Ring, and yet cannot get the 
more timid reformers to go the length of voting either an inde- 
pendent ticket or the ticket of the other party. It is employed 
when a King ticket is not bad all throiigh, but contains some 
fair names mingled with some names of corrupt or dangerous 
men. Yon scratch the latter and thereby cause their defeat; 
the others, receiving the full strength of the party, are 
carried. 

If, however, indignation against a dominant Ring has risen 
so high as to overcome the party predilections of ordinary citi- 
zens, if it is desired to administer condign and certain punish- 
ment to those who have abused the patience of the people, the 
reformers will take a more decided course. They urge their 
friends to vote the ticket of the opposite party, either entire 
or at least all the better names on it, thus ensuring its victory. 
This is an efficient method, but a desperate one, for you put 
into power a Ring of the party which you have been opposing 
all your life, and whose members are possibly quite as corrupt 
as those of the Ring which controls your own party. The 
gain you look for is not therefore the immediate gain of secur- 
ing better city government, but the ultimate gain of raising 
the general practice of politics by the punishment of evil- 
doers. Hence, whenever there is time to do so, the best policy 
is for the reformers to make overtures to the opposite part}-, 
and induce them by the promise of support to nominate better 
candidates than they would have nominated if left to them- 
selves. A group of Bolters afraid of being called traitors to 
their party, will shrink from this course ; and if they are 
weak in numbers, their approaches may be repulsed by the 
opposition. But the scheme is always worth trying, and has 



170 THE PARTY SYSTEM 



several times been crowned with success. By it tlie reforming 
party among the Democrats of Baltimore recently managed to 
defeat their King in an election of judges. They settled in 
conference with the Republicans a non-partisan ticket, which 
gave the Republicans (who were a minority) a better share of 
the bench than they could have got by fighting alone, and 
which substituted respectable Democrats for the objectionable 
names on the regular Democratic ticket. A similar combina- 
tion of the reform Republicans in Philadelphia with the Dem- 
ocrats, who in that city are in a permanent minority, led to 
the defeat of the Republican Gas Ring (whereof more in a 
later chapter). This method has the advantage of saving 
expense, because the bolters can use the existing machinery of 
the opposite party, which organizes the meetings and circulates 
the literature. It is on the whole the most promising strategy, 
but needs tact as well as vigour on the part of the Independ- 
ent leaders. Nor will the opposite party always accept the 
proffered help. Sometimes it fears the gifts of the Greeks. 
Sometimes it hopes to win unhelped, and therefore will not 
sacrifice any of its candidates to the scruples of the reformers. 
Sometimes its chiefs dislike the idea of reform so heartily as 
to prefer defeat at the hands of a Ring of the other party to 
a victory which might weaken the hold of professionals upon 
the Machine and lead to a general purification of politics. 

If the opposite party refuses the overtures of the reformers 
who are "kicking" against their own Machine, or will not 
purify the ticket sufficiently to satisfy them, there remains the 
chance of forming a third party out of the best men of both 
the regular organizations, and starting a third set of candidates. 
This is an extension and improvement of the second of the 
four enumerated methods, and has the greater promise of suc- 
cess because it draws votes from both parties instead of from 
one only. It has been frequently employed of late years in 
cities, generally of the second order, by running what is called 
a " Citizens' Ticket." 

Of course bolters who desert their own party at a city elec- 
tion do not intend permanently to separate themselves from it. 
Probably they will vote its ticket at the next State or presi- 
dential election. Their object is to shake the power of their 
local boss, and if they cannot overthrow the Ring, at least to 



CHAP, l.xvui THE WAR AC, A INST BOSSDOM 171 



frighten it into bettor behaviour. This they often effect. 
Alter the defeat of some notorious candidates, the jobs are apt 
to be less flagrant. But such repentances are like those of the 
sick wolf in the fable, and experience proves that when the 
public vigilance has been relaxed, the ringsters of both parties 
return to their wallowing in the mire. 

The difficulties of getting good citizens to maintain a steady 
war against the professionals have been found so great, and in 
particular the attempt to break their control of the primaries 
lias so often failed, that remedies have been sought in legisla- 
tion. Not a few States have extended the penalties attached 
to bribery and frauds at public elections to similar offences 
committed at primaries and nominating conventions, deeming 
these acts to be, as in fact they are, scarcely less hurtful to 
the community when practised at purely voluntary and private 
gatherings than when employed at elections, seeing that the 
average electors follow the regular nomination like so many 
slice}) : it is the candidate's party label, not his own character, 
that is voted for. Statutes have also been passed in some 
States for regulating the proceedings at primaries. For in- 
stance, Ohio provides that a certain notice shall be published 
of the holding of a primary; that judges, clerks, and super- 
visors of the election of delegates shall be sworn; .that any 
qualified elector may challenge any one claiming to vote ; that 
the asking, or giving, or taking a bribe, or an attempt to 
intimidate, shall be punishable offences, and disqualify the 
offending party from voting. Similar provisions protect the 
delegate to a convention from the candidate, the candidate 
from the delegate, and the party from both. Minnesota lately 
enacted a set of even more stringent regulations, making the 
annulment or destruction of any ballots cast at a party meet- 
ing held for the purpose of choosing either candidates or dele- 
gates, or the w r rongfully preventing persons from voting who 
are entitled to vote, or personation, or "any other fraud or 
wrong tending to defeat or affect the result of the election," 
a misdemeanour punishable by a fine not exceeding $3000, or 
three years' imprisonment, or both penalties combined. 1 As- 
tonishing as it seems to a European that legislation should not 

1 Statutes of Minnesota of 1887, Chapter IV. §§ 99-105. It is significant that 
these sections apply only to cities of 5000 inhabitants or upwards. 



172 THE PARTY SYSTEM 



only recognize parties, but should actually attempt to regulate 
the internal proceedings of a political party at a perfectly vol- 
untary gathering of its own members, a gathering whose reso- 
lutions no one is bound to obey or regard in any way, some of 
the wisest American publicists conceive that this plan offers 
the best chance of reforming the Machine and securing the 
freedom of the voter. Not much success has been hitherto 
attained; but the statutes have, in some cases (e.g. California), 
been expressed to apply only where the political party seeks to 
apply them, and the experiment has not been tried long enough 
to enable a judgment on it to be formed. That it should be 
tried at all is a phenomenon to be seriously pondered by those 
who are accustomed to point to America as the country where 
the principle of leaving things alone has worked most widely 
and usefully ; and it is the strongest evidence of the immense 
vigour of these party organizations, and of the authority their 
nominations exert, that reformers, foiled in the effort to purify 
them by voluntary action, should be driven to invoke the arm 
of the law. 

The struggle between the professional politicians and the 
reformers has been going on in the great cities, with varying 
fortune, for the last twenty years. As illustrations of the inci- 
dents that mark it will be found in subsequent chapters, I will 
here say only that in the onslaughts on the Rings, which most 
elections bring round, the reformers, though they seldom capture 
the citadel, often destroy some of the outworks, and frighten 
the garrison into a more cautious and moderate use of their 
power. After an election in which an " Independent ticket " 
has received considerable support, the bosses are disposed to 
make better nominations, and, as an eminent New York pro- 
fessional ^the late Mr. Fernando Wood) said, "to pander a 
little to the moral sense of the community." Every campaign 
teaches the reformers where the enemy's weak points lie, and 
gives them more of that technical skill which has hitherto been 
the strength of the professionals. It is a warfare of volunteers 
against disciplined troops, but the volunteers, since they are 
fighting for the taxpayers at large, would secure so great a 
preponderance of numbers, if the}' could but move the whole 
body of respectable citizens, that their triumph will evidently 
depend in the long run upon their own constancy and earnest- 



cii.w. lxvhj THE WAR AGAINST BOSSDOM 173 

ness. If their zeal does not flag; if they do not suffer them- 
selves to be disheartened by frequent repulses ; if, not relying 
too absolutely on any one remedy, they attack the enemy at 
every point, using every social and educational as well as legal 
appliance] the example of their disinherited public spirit, as 
well as the cogency of their arguments, cannot fail to tell on 
the voters; and no Boss, however adroit, no Ring, however 
strongly entrenched, will be able to withstand them. The war, 
however, will not be over when the enemy has been routed. 
Although much may be done by legislative remedies, such as 
new election laws, new provisions against corruption, a recon- 
struction of the frame of city government, and a purification of 
the civil service, there are certain internal and, so to speak, 
natural causes of mischief, the removal of which will need 
patience and unremitting diligence. In great cities — for it 
is throughout chiefly of cities that we have to think — a large 
section of the voters will, for many years to come, be compar- 
atively ignorant of the methods of free government which they 
are set to work. They will be ignorant even of their own in- 
terests, failing to perceive that wasteful expenditure injures 
those who do not pay direct taxes, as well as those who do. 
Retaining some of the feelings which their European experience 
has tended to produce, they will distrust appeals coming from 
the more cultivated classes, and be inclined to listen to loose- 
tongued demagogues. Once they have joined a party they will 
vote at the bidding of its local leaders, however personally un- 
worthy. 1 While this section remains numerous, Rings and 

1 Says Mr. Roosevelt: "Voters of the labouring class in the cities are very- 
emotional: they value in a public man what we are accustomed to consider 
virtues only to be taken into account when estimating private character. 
Thus if a man is open-handed and warm-hearted, they consider it as being a 
fair offset to his being a little bit shaky when it comes to applying the eighth 
commandment to affairs of State. In the lower wards (of New York City), 
where there is a large vicious population, the condition of politics is often 
fairly appalling, and the [local] boss is generally a man of grossly immoral 
public and private character. In these wards many of the social organizations 
with which the leaders are obliged to keep on good terms are composed of 
criminals or of the relatives and associates of criminals. . . . The president 
of a powerful semi-political association was by profession a burglar, the man 
who received the goods he stole was an alderman. Another alderman was 
elected while his hair was still short from a term in the State prison. A school 
trustee had been convicted of embezzlement and was the associate of crimi- 
nals." — Century Magazine for Nov. 1886. 



174 THE PARTY SYSTEM part hi 

Bosses will always have materials ready to their hands. There 
is, however, reason to expect that with the progress of time this 
section will become relatively smaller. And even now, large as 
it is, it could be overthrown and bossdom extirpated, were the 
better citizens to maintain unbroken through a series of elections 
that unity and vigour of action of which they have at rare 
moments, and under the impulse of urgent duty, shown them- 
selves capable. In America, as everywhere else in the world, 
the commonwealth suffers more often from apathy or short- 
sightedness in the upper classes, who ought to lead, than from 
ignorance or recklessness in the humbler classes, who are gen- 
erally ready to follow when they are wisely and patriotically 
led. 



CHAPTER LXIX 

NOMINATING CONVENTIONS 

In every American election there are two acts of choice, two 
periods of contest. The first is the selection of the candidate 
from within the party by the party ; the other is the struggle 
between the parties for the place. Frequently the former of 
these is more important, more keenly fought over, than the 
latter, for there are many districts in which the predominance 
of one party is so marked that its candidate is sure of success, 
and therefore the choice of a candidate is virtually the choice 
of the officer or representative. 

Preceding chapters have described the machinery which exists 
for choosing and nominating a candidate. The process is simi- 
lar in every State of the Union, and through all elections to 
office, from the lowest to the highest, from that of common 
councilman for a city ward up to that of President of the 
United States. But, of course, the higher the office, and the 
larger the area over which the election extends, the greater are 
the efforts made to secure the nomination, and the hotter the 
passions it excites. The choice of a candidate for the presi- 
dency is so striking and peculiar a feature of the American 
system that it deserves a full examination. 

Like most political institutions, the system of nominating 
the President by a popular convention is the result of a long 
process of evolution. 

In the first two elections, those of 1789 1 and 1792, there was 
no need for nominations of candidates, because the whole nation 
wished and expected George Washington to be elected. So too, 

1 The President is now always chosen on the Tuesday after the first Monday 

in the November of an even year, whose number is a multiple of four (e.r/. 1880, 

1888), and comes into office in the spring following; but the first election 

was held in the beginning of 1789, because the Constitution had been then only 

just adopted. 

175 



176 THE PARTY SYSTEM part hi 
» 

when in 1796 Washington declared his retirement, the dominant 
feeling of one party was for John Adams, that of the other for 
Thomas Jefferson, and nobody thought of setting out formally 
what was so generally understood. 

In 1800, however, the year of the fourth election, there was 
somewhat less unanimity. The prevailing sentiment of the 
Federalists went for re-electing Adams, and the small conclave 
of Federalist members of Congress which met to promote his 
interest was deemed scarcely necessary. The (Democratic) 
Republicans, however, while united in desiring to make Jeffer- 
son President, hesitated as to their candidate for the vice-presi- 
dency, and a meeting of Republican members of Congress was 
therefore called to recommend Aaron Burr for this office. It 
was a small meeting and a secret meeting, but it is memorable 
not only as the first congressional caucus, but as the first at- 
tempt to arrange in any way a party nomination. 

In 1804 a more regular gathering for the same purpose was 
held. All the Republican members of Congress were summoned 
to meet ;. and they unanimously nominated Jefferson for Presi- 
dent, and George Clinton of New York for Vice-President. So 
in 1808 nearly all the Republican majority in both Houses of 
Congress met and formally nominated Madison and Clinton. 
The same course was followed in 1812, and again in 1816. 
But the objections which were from the first made to this 
action of the party in Congress, as being an arrogant usurpa- 
tion of the rights of the people, — for no one dreamed of leaving 
freedom to the presidential electors, — gained rather than lost 
strength on each successive occasion, so much so that in 1820 
the few who met made no nomination, 1 and in 1824, out of the 
Democratic members of both Houses of Congress summoned to 
the "nominating caucus," as it was called, only sixty-six at- 
tended, many of the remainder having announced their disap- 
proval of the practice. 2 The nominee of this caucus came in 
only third at the polls, and this failure gave the coup de grdce 
to a plan which the levelling tendencies of the time, and the 
disposition to refer everything to the arbitrament of the 

1 It was not absolutely necessary to have a nomination, because there was 
a general feeling in favour of re-electing Monroe. 

2 The whole number was then 261, nearly all Democratic Republicans, for 
the Federalist party had been for some time virtually extinct. 



ch.w. lkix NOMINATING CONVENTIONS 177 

masses, would in any case have soon extinguished. No con- 
gressional caucus was ever again held for the choice of candi- 
dates. 

A new method, however, was not at once discovered. In 1828 
Jackson was recommended as candidate by the legislature of 
Tennessee and by a number of popular gatherings in different 
places, while his opponents accepted, without any formal nomi- 
nation, the then President, J. Q. Adams, as their candidate. In 
1831, however, assemblies were held by two great parties (the 
Anti-Masons and the National Eepublicans, afterwards called 
Whigs) consisting of delegates from most of the States; and 
each of these conventions nominated its candidates for the 
presidency and vice-presidency. A third "national conven- 
tion " of young men, which met in 1832, adopted the Whig 
nominations, and added to them a series of ten resolutions, con- 
stituting the first political platform ever put forth by a nominat- 
ing body. The friends of Jackson followed suit by holding 
their national convention which nominated him and Van Buren. 
For the election of 1836, a similar convention was held by the 
Jacksonian Democrats, none by their opponents. But for that 
of 1840, national conventions of delegates from nearly all the 
States were held by both Democrats and Whigs, as well as by 
the (then young and very small) party of the Abolitionists. 
This precedent has been followed in every subsequent contest, 
so that the national nominating conventions of the great parties 
are now as much a part of the regular machinery of politics as 
are the rules which the Constitution itself prescribes for the 
election. The establishment of the system coincides with and 
represents the complete social democratization of politics in 
Jackson's time. It suits both the professionals, for whom it 
finds occupation, and whose power it secures, and the ordinary 
citizen who, not having leisure to attend to politics, likes to 
think that his right of selecting candidates is recognized by 
committing the selection to delegates whom he is entitled to 
vote for. But the system was soon seen to be liable to fall 
under the control of selfish intriguers and therefore prejudicial 
to the chances of able and independent men. As early as 
1844 Calhoun refused to allow his name to be submitted to a 
nominating convention, observing that he would never have 
joined in breaking down the old congressional caucus had 

VOL. II n 



178 THE PARTY SYSTEM part hi 

he foreseen that its successor would prove so much more 
pernicious. 

Thus from 1789 till 1800 there were no formal nominations ; 
from 1800 till 1824, nominations were made by congressional 
caucuses ; from 1824 till 1840, nominations irregularly made by 
State legislatures and popular meetings were gradually ripening 
towards the method of a special gathering of delegates from 
the whole country. This last plan has held its ground from 
1840 till the present day, and is so exactly conformable to the 
political habits of the people that it is not likely soon to 
disappear. 

Its perfection, however, was not reached at once. The early 
conventions were to a large extent mass meetings. 1 The later 
and present ones are regularly-constituted representative bodies, 
composed exclusively of delegates, each of whom has been duly 
elected at a party meeting in his own State, and brings with 
him his credentials. It would be tedious to trace in further 
detail the process whereby the present system was created, so 
I shall be content with sketching its outline as it now stands. 

The Constitution provides that each State shall choose as 
many presidential electors as it has persons representing it in 
Congress, i.e. two electors to correspond to the two senators 
from each State, and as many more as the State sends members 
to the House of Kepresentatives. Thus Delaware and Idaho 
have each three electoral votes, because they have each only 
one representative besides their two senators. New York has 
thirty-six electoral votes : two corresponding to its two senators, 
thirty-four corresponding to its thirty-four representatives in 
the House. 

Now in the nominating convention each State is allowed 
twice as many delegates as it has electoral votes, e.g. Delaware 
and Idaho have each six delegates, New York has seventy-two. 
The delegates are chosen by local conventions in their several 
States, viz. two for each congressional district by the party 
convention of that district, and four for the whole State (called 
delegates-at-large) by the State convention. As each conven- 

1 In 1856 the first Republican convention, which nominated Fremont, was 
rather a mass meeting than a representative body, for in many States there 
was not a regular organization of the new party. So was the seceding Repub- 
lican convention which met at Cincinnati in 1872 and nominated Greelev. 



CHAP. Lxn NOMINATING CONVENTIONS 179 

tion is composed of delegates from primaries, it is the compo- 
sition of the primaries which determines that of the local 
conventions, and the composition of the local conventions 
which determines that of the national. To every delegate 
there is added a person called his "alternate," chosen by the 
local convention at the same time, and empowered to replace 
him in case he cannot be present in the national convention. 
If the delegate is present to vote, the alternate is silent; if 
from any cause the delegate is absent, the alternate steps into 
his shoes. 

Respecting the freedom of the delegate to vote for whom he 
will, there have been differences both of doctrine and of prac- 
tice. A local convention or State convention may instruct its 
delegates which aspirant * shall be their first choice, or even in 
case he cannot be carried, for whom their subsequent votes 
shall be cast. Such instructions are frequently given, and still 
more frequently implied, because a delegate is often chosen 
expressly as being the supporter of one or other of the aspirants 
whose names are most prominent. But the delegate is not 
absolutely bound to follow his instructions. He may vote even 
on the first ballot for some other aspirant than the one desired 
by his own local or State convention. Much more, of course, 
may he, though not so instructed, change his vote when it is 
plain that that aspirant will not succeed. His vote is always 
a valid one, even when given in the teeth of his instructions ; 
but how far he will be held censurable for breaking them de- 
pends on a variety of circumstances. His motives maybe cor- 
rupt ; perhaps something has been given him. They may be 
pardonable ; a party chief may have put pressure on him, or he 
may desire to be on the safe side, and go with the majority. 
They may be laudable ; he really seeks to do the best for the 
party, or has been convinced by facts lately brought to his 
knowledge that the man for whom he is instructed is unworthy. 
Where motives are doubtful, it may be charitable, but it is not 
safe, to assume that they are of the higher order. Each " State 
delegation " has its chairman, and is expected to keep together 
during the convention. It usually travels together to the place 

l l use throughout the term "aspirant" to denote a competitor for the 
nomination, reserving the term "candidate" for the person nominated as the 
party's choice for the ]>)•< Bidency. 



180 THE PARTY SYSTEM part hi 

of meeting; takes rooms in the same hotel; has a recognized 
headquarters there ; sits in a particular place allotted to it in 
the convention hall ; holds meetings of its members during the 
progress of the convention to decide on the course which it 
shall from time to time take. These meetings, if the State be 
a large and doubtful one, excite great interest, and the sharp- 
eared reporter prowls round them, eager to learn how the votes 
will go. Each State delegation votes by its chairman, who an- 
nounces how his delegates vote ; but if his report is challenged, 
the roll of delegates is called, and they vote individually. 
Whether the votes of a State delegation shall be given solid for 
the aspirant whom the majority of the delegation favours, or 
by the delegates individually according to their preferences, is a 
point which has excited bitter controversy. The present prac- 
tice of the Republican party (so settled in 1876 and again in 
1880) allows the delegates to vote individually, even when they 
have been instructed by a State convention to cast a solid vote. 
The Democratic party, on the other hand, sustains any such 
instruction given to the delegation, and records the vote of all 
the State delegates for the aspirant whom the majority among 
them approve. 1 This is the so-called Unit Rule. If, however, 
the State convention has not imposed the unit rule, the delegates 
vote individually. 

For the sake of keeping up party life in the Territories and 
in the Federal District of Columbia, delegates from them (and 
now [1893] even from the Indian Territory and Alaska) are 
admitted to the national convention, although the Territories 
and District have no votes in a presidential election. Delega- 
tions of States which are known to be in the hands of the 
opposite party, and whose preference of one aspirant to another 
will not really tell upon the result of the presidential election, 
are admitted to vote equally with the delegations of the States 
sure to go for the party which holds the convention. This 
arrangement is justified on the ground that it sustains the 
interest and energy of the party in States where it is in a 
minority. But it permits the choice to be determined by dis- 
tricts whose action will in no wise affect the election itself, and 
the delegates from these districts are apt to belong to a lower 

1 An attempt was made at the Democratic convention in Chicago in July, 
1884, to overset this rule, but the majority reaffirmed it. 



chap, iaix NOMINATING CONVENTIONS 181 

class of politicians, and to be swayed by more sordid motives 
than those who come from States where the party holds a 

majority. 1 

So much for the composition of the national convention : we 
may now go on to describe its proceedings. 

It is held in the summer immediately preceding a presiden- 
tial election, usually in June or July, the election falling in 
November. A large city is always chosen, in order to obtain 
adequate hotel accommodation, and easy railroad access. For- 
merly, conventions were commonly held in Baltimore or Phila- 
delphia, but since the centre of population has shifted to the 
Mississippi valley, Cincinnati, St. Louis, Minneapolis, and espe- 
cially Chicago, have become the favourite spots. 

Business begins by the " calling of the convention to order " 
by the chairman of the National Party committee. Then a 
temporary chairman is nominated, and, if opposed, voted on; 
the vote sometimes giving an indication of the respective 
strength of the factions present. Then the secretaries and 
the clerks are appointed, and the rules whicli are to govern 
the business are adopted. After this, the committees, including 
those on credentials and resolutions, are nominated, and the 
convention adjourns till their report can be presented. 

The next sitting usually opens, after the customary prayer, 
with the appointment of the permanent chairman, who inaugu- 
rates the proceedings with a speech. Then the report of the 
committee on resolutions (if completed) is presented. It con- 
tains what is called the platform, a long series of resolutions 
embodying the principles and programme of the party, which 
has usually been so drawn as to conciliate every section, and 
avoid or treat with prudent ambiguity those questions on which 
opinion within the party is divided. Any delegate who objects 
to a resolution can move to strike it out or amend it; but it is 
generally " sustained " in the shape it has received from the 
practised hands of the committee. 

Next follows the nomination of aspirants for the post of 

1 Although the large majority of the delegates in the conventions of the 
two great parties belong to the class of professional politicians, there is always 
a minority of respectable men who do not belong to that class, but have 
obtained the post owing to their interest in seeing a strong and honest candi- 
date chosen. The great importance of the business draws persons of talent 
and experience from most parts of the country. 



182 THE PARTY SYSTEM part hi 

party candidate. The roll of States is called, and when a State 
is reached to which an aspirant intended to be nominated 
belongs, a prominent delegate from that State mounts the plat- 
form, and proposes him in a speech extolling his merits, and 
sometimes indirectly disparaging the other aspirants. Another 
delegate seconds the nomination, sometimes a third follows; 
and then the roll-call goes on till all the States have been 
despatched, and all the aspirants nominated. 1 The average num- 
ber of nominations is seven or eight ; it rarely exceeds twelve. 2 
Thus the final stage is reached, for Avhich all else has been 
but preparation — that of balloting between the aspirants. 
The clerks call the roll of States from Alabama to Wisconsin, 
and as each is called the chairman of its delegation announces 
the votes, e.g. six for A, five for B, three for C, unless, of course, 
under the unit rule, the whole vote is cast for that one aspirant 
whom the majority of the delegation supports. When all have 
voted, the totals are made up and announced. If one compet- 
itor has an absolute majority of the whole number voting, 
according to the Eepublican rule, a majority of two-thirds of 
the number voting, according to the Democratic rule, he has 
been duly chosen, and nothing remains but formally to make 
his nomination unanimous. If, however, as has usually hap- 
pened of late years, no one obtains the requisite majority, the 
roll is called again, in order that individual delegates and dele- 
gations (if the unit rule prevails) may have the opportunity 
of changing their votes ; and the process is repeated until some 
one of the aspirants put forward has received the required 
number of votes. Sometimes many roll-calls take place. In 
1852 the Democrats nominated Franklin Pierce on the forty- 
ninth ballot, and the Whigs General Scott on the fifty-third. 
In 1880, thirty-six ballots were taken before General Garfield 
was nominated. But, in 1835, Martin Van Buren; in 1844, 
Henry Clay ; in 1868 and 1872, Ulysses S. Grant ; in 1888, 
Mr.- Cleveland, were unanimously nominated, the three former 
by acclamation, the latter on the first ballot. In 1884 Mr. 
Blaine was nominated by the Bepublicans on the fourth ballot, 

1 Nominations may, however, be made at any subsequent time. 

2 However, in the Eepublican convention of 1888, fourteen aspirants were 
nominated at the outset, six of whom were voted for on the last ballot. Votes 
were given at one or other of the ballotings for nineteen aspirants in all. 



eii.w. i.xix NOMINATING CONVENTIONS 183 

Mr. Cleveland by the Democrats on the second ; in 1888, Mr. 
Harrison on the eighth. In 1892 both Mr. Harrison (then 
President) and Mr. Cleveland were nominated on the first 
ballot, each of them by an overwhelming majority. Thus it 
sometimes happens that the voting is over in an hour or two, 
while at other times it may last for days. 

When a candidate for the presidency has been thus found, 
the convention proceeds to similarly determine its candidate 
for the vice-presidency. The inferiority of the office, and the 
exhaustion which has by this time overcome the delegates, 
make the second struggle a less exciting and protracted one. 
Frequently one of the defeated aspirants is consoled by this 
minor nomination, especially if he has retired at the nick of 
time in favour of the rival who has been chosen. The work 
of the convention is then complete, and votes of thanks to the 
chairman and other officials conclude the proceedings. The 
two nominees are now the party candidates, entitled to the sup- 
port of the party organizations and of loyal party men over 
the length and breadth of the Union. 

Entitled to that support, but not necessarily sure to receive 
it. Even in America, party discipline cannot compel an indi- 
vidual voter to cast his ballot for the party nominee. All that 
the convention can do is to recommend the candidate to the 
party ; all that opinion can do is to brand as a Kicker or Bolter 
whoever breaks away ; all that the local party organization can 
do is to strike the bolter off its lists. But how stands it, the 
reader will ask, with the delegates who have been present in 
the convention, have had their chance of carrying their man, 
and have been beaten ? are they not held absolutely bound to 
support the candidate chosen ? 

This is a question which has excited much controversy. The 
constant impulse and effort of the successful majority have been 
to impose such an obligation on the defeated minority, and the 
chief motive which has prevented it from being invariably for- 
mally enforced by a rule or resolution of the convention has been 
the fear that it might precipitate hostilities, might induce men 
of independent character, or strongly opposed to some particular 
aspirant, to refuse to attend as delegates, or to secede early in 
the proceedings when they saw that a person whom they dis- 
approved was likely to win. 



184 THE PARTY SYSTEM part hi 

At the Eepublican national convention at Chicago in June, 
1880, an attempt was successfully made to impose the obliga- 
tion by the following resolution, commonly called the " Iron- 
clad Pledge" : — 

" That every member of this convention is bound in honour 
to support its nominee, whoever that nominee may be, and that 
no man should hold his seat here who is not ready so to 
agree." 

This was carried by 716 votes to 3. But at the Eepublican 
national convention at Chicago in June, 1884, when a similar 
resolution was presented, the opposition developed was strong 
enough to compel its withdrawal ; and in point of fact, several 
conspicuous delegates at that convention strenuously opposed 
its nominee at the subsequent presidential election, themselves 
voting, and inducing others to vote, for the candidate of the 
Democratic party. 



CHAPTER LXX 

THE NOMINATING CONVENTION AT WORK 

We have examined the composition of a national convention 
and the normal order of business in it. The more difficult task 
remains of describing the actual character and features of such 
an assembly, the motives which sway it, the temper it displays, 
the passions it elicits, the wiles by which its members are lured 
or driven to their goal. 

A national convention has two objects, the formal declaration 
of the principles, views, and practical proposals of the party, 
and the choice of its candidates for the executive headship of 
the nation. 

Of these objects the former has in critical times, such as the 
two elections preceding the Civil War, been of great impor- 
tance. In the Democratic convention at Charleston in 1860, a 
debate on resolutions led to a secession, and to the break-up of 
the Democratic party. 1 But of late years the adoption of plat- 
forms, drafted in a vague and pompous style by the com- 
mittee, has been almost a matter of form. Some observations 
on these enunciations of doctrine will be found in another 
chapter. 2 

The second object is of absorbing interest and importance, 
because the presidency is the great prize of politics, the goal of 
every statesman's ambition. The President can by his veto 
stop legislation adverse to the wishes of the party he represents. 
The President is the supreme dispenser of patronage. 

1 The national conventions of those days were much smaller than now, nor 
were the assisting spectators so numerous. 

2 Chap. LXXXIII. The nearest English parallel to an American "plat- 
form" is to be found in the addresses to their respective constituencies issued 
at a general election by the Prime Minister, if a member of the House of Com- 
mons, and the leader of the Opposition in that House. Such addresses, how- 
ever, do not formally bind the whole party, as an American platform does. 

185 



186 THE PARTY SYSTEM part nr 

One may therefore say that the task of a convention is to 
choose the party candidate. And it is a task difficult enough 
to tax all the resources of the host of delegates and their 
leaders. Who is the man fittest to be adopted as candidate ? 
Not even a novice in politics will suppose that it is the best man, 
i.e. the wisest, strongest, and most upright. Plainly, it is the 
man most likely to win, the man who, to use the technical term, 
is most " available." What a party wants is not a good Presi- 
dent but a good candidate. The party managers have therefore 
to look out for the person likely to gain most- support, and at 
the same time excite least opposition. Their search is rendered 
more troublesome by the fact that many of them, being them- 
selves either aspirants or the close allies of aspirants, are not 
disinterested, and are distrusted by their fellow-searchers. 

Many things have to be considered. The ability of a states- 
man, the length of time he has been before the people, his 
oratorical gifts, his "magnetism," his family connections, his 
face and figure, the purity of his private life, his " record " (the 
chronicle of his conduct) as regards integrity — all these are 
matters needing to be weighed. Account must be taken of the 
personal jealousies and hatreds which a man has excited. To 
have incurred the enmity of a leading statesman, of a power- 
ful boss or ring, even of an influential newspaper, is serious. 
Several such feuds may be fatal. 

Finally, much depends on the State whence a possible candi- 
date comes. Local feeling leads a State to support one of its 
own citizens ; it increases the vote of his own party in that 
State, and reduces the vote of the opposite party. Where the 
State is decidedly of one political colour, e.g. so steadily Ee- 
publican as Vermont, so steadily Democratic as Maryland, this 
consideration is weak, for the choice of a Democratic candidate 
from the former, or of a Eepublican candidate from the latter, 
would not make the difference of the State's vote. It is there- 
fore from a doubtful State that a candidate may with most ad- 
vantage be selected; and the larger the doubtful State, the 
better. California, with her five electoral votes, is just worth 
" placating " ; Indiana, with her fifteen votes, more so ; New 
York, with her thirty-six votes, most so of all. Hence an aspir- 
ant who belongs to a great and doubtful State is prima facie the 
most eligible candidate. 



chap. i.x\ NOMINATING CONVENTION AT WORK 187 

Aspirants hoping to obtain the party nomination from a 
national convention may be divided into three classes, the two 
last of which, as will appear presently, are not mutually exclu- 
sive, viz. — 

Favourites. Dark Horses. Favourite Sons. 

A Favourite is always a politician well known over the 
Union, and drawing support from all or most of its sections. 
He is a man who has distinguished himself in Congress, or in 
the war. or in the politics of some State so large that its poli- 
ties are matter of knowledge and interest to the whole nation. 
He is usually a person of conspicuous gifts, whether as a speaker, 
or a party manager, or an administrator. The drawback to him 
is that in making friends he has also made enemies. 

A Dark Horse is a person not very widely known in the 
country at large, but known rather for good than for evil. He 
has probably sat in Congress, been useful on committees, and 
gained some credit among those who dealt with him in Wash- 
ington. Or he has approved himself a safe and assiduous 
party man in the political campaigns of his own and neighbour- 
ing States, yet without reaching national prominence. Some- 
times he is a really able man, but without the special talents 
that win popularity. Still, speaking generally, the note of the 
Dark Horse is respectability, verging on colourlessness ; and 
he is therefore a good sort of person to fall back upon when 
able but dangerous Favourites have proved impossible. That 
native mediocrity rather than adverse fortune has prevented 
him from winning fame is proved by the fact that the Dark 
Horses who have reached the White House, if they have seldom 
turned out bad Presidents, have even more seldom turned out 
distinguished ones. 

A Favourite Son is a politician respected or admired in his 
own State, but little regarded beyond it. He may not be, like 
the Dark Horse, little known to the nation at large, but he has 
not fixed its eye or filled its ear. He is usually a man who has 
sat in the State legislature ; filled with credit the post of State 
governor; perhaps gone as senator or representative to Wash- 
ington, and there approved himself an active promoter of local 
interests. Probably he possesses the qualities which gain local 
popularity, — geniality, activity, sympathy with the dominant 



188 THE PARTY SYSTEM part in 

sentiment and habits of his State ; or while endowed with gifts 
excellent in their way, he has lacked the audacity and tenacity 
which pnsh a man to the front through a jostling crowd. More 
rarely he is a demagogue who has raised himself by nattering 
the masses of his State on some local questions, or a skilful 
handler of party organizations who has made local bosses and 
spoilsmen believe that their interests are safe in his hands. 
Anyhow, his personality is such as to be more effective with 
neighbours than with the nation, as a lamp whose glow fills the 
side chapel of a cathedral sinks to a spark of light when carried 
into the nave. 

A Favourite Son may be also a Dark Horse ; that is to say, 
he may be well known in his own State, but so little known out 
of it as to be an unlikely candidate . But he need not be. The 
types are different, for as there are Favourite Sons whom the 
nation knows but does not care for, so there are Dark Horses 
whose reputation, such as it is, has not been made in State 
affairs, and who rely very little on State favour. 

There are seldom more than two, never more than three 
Favourites in the running at the same convention. Favourite 
Sons are more numerous — it is not uncommon to have four or 
five, or even six, though perhaps not all these are actually 
started in the race. The number of Dark Horses is practically 
unlimited, because many talked of beforehand are not actually 
started, while others not considered before the convention begins 
are discovered as it goes on. This happened in the leading and 
most instructive case of James A. Garfield, who was not voted 
for at all on the first ballot in the Eepublican convention of 
1880, and had, on no ballot up to the thirty-fourth, received 
more than two votes. On the thirty-sixth 1 he was nominated 
by 399. So, in 1852, Pierce was scarcely known to the people 
when he was sprung on the convention. So, in 1868, Horatio 
Seymour, who had been so little thought of as a candidate that 
he was chairman of the Democratic convention, was first voted 
for on the twenty-second ballot. He refused to be nominated, 
but was induced to leave the chair and nominated on that very 
ballot. 

To carry the analysis farther, it may be observed that four 

1 In 1860 the Democratic convention at Charleston nominated Mr. Douglas 
on the fifty-seventh ballot. 



chap, lxx NOMINATING CONVENTION AT WORK 189 



sets of motives are at work upon those who direct or vote in a 
convention, acting with different degrees of force on different 
persons. There is the wish to carry a particular aspirant. 
There is the wish to defeat a particular aspirant, a wish some- 
times stronger than any predilection. There is the desire to 
gel something for one's self out of the struggle — e.g. by trading 
one's vote or influence for the prospect of a Federal office. 
There is the wish to find the man who, be he good or bad, friend 
or foe, will give the party its best chance of victory. These 
motives cross one another, get mixed, vary in relative strength 
from hour to hour as the convention goes on and new possi- 
bilities are disclosed. To forecast their joint effect on the 
minds of particular persons and sections of a party needs wide 
knowledge and eminent acuteness. To play upon them is a 
matter of the finest skill. 

The proceedings of a nominating convention can be best 
understood by regarding the three periods into which they fall : 
the transactions which precede the opening of its sittings ; the 
preliminary business of passing rules and resolutions and de- 
livering the nominating speeches ; and, finally, the balloting. 

A President has scarcely been elected before the newspapers 
begin to discuss his probable successor. Little, however, is 
done towards the ascertainment of candidates till about a year 
before the next election, when the factions of the chief aspir- 
ants prepare to fall into line, newspapers take up their parable 
in favour of one or other, and bosses begin the work of " sub- 
soiling," i.e. manipulating primaries and local conventions so 
as to secure the choice of such delegates to the next national 
convention as they desire. In most of the conventions which 
appoint delegates, the claims of the several aspirants are can- 
vassed, and the delegates chosen are usually chosen in the 
interest of one particular aspirant. The newspapers, with their 
quick sense of what is beginning to stir men's thoughts, redouble 
their advocacy, and the " boom " of one or two of the probable 
favourites is thus fairly started. Before the delegates leave 
their homes for the national convention, most of them have 
fixed on their candidate, many having indeed received positive 
instructions as to how their vote shall be cast. All appears to 
be spontaneous, but in reality both the choice of particular men 
as delegates, and the instructions given, are usually the result 



190 THE PARTY SYSTEM part hi 

of untiring underground work among local politicians, directed, 
or even personally conducted, by two or three skilful agents 
and emissaries of a leading aspirant, or of the knot which, seeks 
to run him. 

Four or five days before the day fixed for the opening of the 
convention the delegations begin to flock into the city where it 
is to be held. Some come attended by a host of friends and 
camp-followers, and are received at the depot (railway termi- 
nus) by the politicians of the city, with a band of music and 
an admiring crowd. Thus Tammany Hall, the famous Demo- 
cratic club of Xew York City, came six hundred strong to 
Chicago in July. 1884, filling two special trains. 1 A great crowd 
met it at the station, and it marched, following its Boss, from 
the cars to its headquarters at the Palmer House in procession, 
each member wearing his badge, just as the retainers of Earl 
Warwick the King-maker used to follow him through the 
streets of London with the Bear and Bagged Staff upon their 
sleeves. Less than twenty of the six hundred were delegates ; 
the rest ordinary members of the organization, who had accom- 
panied to give it moral and vocal support. 2 

Before the great day dawns many thousands of politicians, 
newspaper men, and sight-seers have filled to overflowing every 
hotel in the city, and crowded the main thoroughfares so that 
the horse-cars can scarcely penetrate the throng. It is like a 
mediaeval pilgrimage, or the mustering of a great army. When 
the chief delegations have arrived, the work begins in earnest. 
Not only each large delegation, but the faction of each leading 
aspirant to the candidacy, has its headquarters, where the 
managers hold perpetual session, reckoning up their numbers, 
starting rumours meant to exaggerate their resources, and dis- 
hearten their opponents, organizing raids upon the less experi- 
enced delegates as they arrive. Some fill the entrance halls 
and bars of the hotels, talk to the busy reporters, extemporize 
meetings with tumultuous cheering for their favourite. The 
common " worker " is good enough to raise the boom by these 
devices. Meanwhile, the more skilful leaders begin (as it is 

1 The Boss of Tammany was an object of special curiosity to the crowd, 
being the most illustrious professional in the whole United States. 

2 The two other Democratic organizations which then existed in Xew York 
City, the County Democracy and Irviug Hall, came each in force — the one a 
regiment of five hundred, the other of two hundred. 



chap. i.\\ NOMINATING CONVENTION AT WORK 101 

expressed) to "plough around" among the delegations of the 
newer Western and Southern States, usually (at least among 
the Republicans) more malleable, because they come from 
regions where the strength of the factions supporting the 

various aspirants is less accurately known, and are themselves 
more easily "captured" by bold assertions or seductive prom- 
ises. Sometimes an expert intriguer will "break into" one of 
these wavering delegations, and make havoc like a fox in a hen- 
roost. " Missionaries " are sent out to bring over individuals ; 
embassies are accredited from one delegation to another to 
endeavour to arrange combinations by coaxing the weaker 
party to drop its own aspirant, and add its votes to those of 
the stronger party. All is conducted with perfect order and 
good-humour, for the least approach to violence would recoil 
upon its authors ; and the only breach of courtesy is where a 
delegation refuses to receive the ambassadors of an organization 
whose evil fame has made it odious. 

It is against etiquette for the aspirants themselves to appear 
upon the scene, 1 whether from some lingering respect for the 
notion that a man must not ask the people to choose him, but 
accept the proffered honour, or on the principle that the attor- 
ney who conducts his own case has a fool for a client. But 
from Washington, if he is an official or a senator, or perhaps 
from his own home in some distant State, each aspirant keeps 
up hourly communication with his managers in the convention 
city, having probably a private wire laid on for the purpose. 
Xot only may officials, including the President himself, become 
aspirants, but Federal office-holders may be, and very largely 
are, delegates, especially among the Southern Republicans 
when that party is in power. 2 They have the strongest per- 
sonal interest in the issue ; and the heads of departments can, 
by promises of places, exert a potent influence. One hears in 
America, just as one used to hear in France under Louis Napo- 
leon or Marshal McMahon, of the " candidate of the Adminis- 
tration." 

1 Oddly enough, the only English parallel to this delicate reserve is to he 
found in the custom which forbids a candidate for the representation in Par- 
liament of the University of Oxford to approach the University before or 
during the election. 

2 Not to add that many Southern Republican delegates are supposed to be 
purchasable. 



192 THE PARTY SYSTEM part hi 

As the hour when the convention is to open approaches, each 
faction strains its energy to the utmost. The larger delega- 
tions hold meetings to determine their course in the event of 
the man they chiefly favour proving "unavailable." Confer- 
ences take place between different delegations. Lists are pub- 
lished in the newspapers of the strength of each aspirant. 
Sea and land are compassed to gain one influential delegate, 
who " owns " other delegates. If he resists other persuasions, 
he is " switched on " to the private wire of some magnate at 
Washington, who "talks to him," and suggests inducements 
more effective than those he has hitherto withstood. The air 
is thick with tales of plots and treasons, so that no politician 
trusts his neighbour, for rumour spares none. 

At length the period of expectation and preparation is over, 
and the summer sun rises upon the fateful day to which every 
politician in the party has looked forward for three years. 
Long before the time (usually 11 a.m.) fixed for the beginning 
of business, every part of the hall, erected specially for the 
gathering — a hall often large enough to hold from ten to fif- 
teen thousand persons — is crowded. 1 The delegates — who 
in 1892 were 904 in the Republican convention and 909 in the 
Democratic — are a mere drop in the ocean of faces. Eminent 
politicians from every State of the Union, senators and repre- 
sentatives from Washington not a few, journalists and re- 
porters, ladies, sight-seers from distant cities, as well as a 
swarm of partisans from the city itself, press in ; some sem- 
blance of order being kept by the sergeant-at-arms and his 
marshals. Some wear devices, sometimes the badge of their 
State, or of their organization; sometimes the colours or 
emblem of their favourite aspirant. Each State delegation has 
its allotted place marked by the flag of the State floating from 
a pole ; but leaders may be seen passing from one group to 
another, while the spectators listen to the band playing popu- 
lar airs, and cheer any well-known figure that enters. 

When the assembly is " called to order," a prayer is offered 
— each day's sitting begins with a prayer by some clergyman 
of local eminence, the susceptibilities of various denominations 
being duly respected in the selection — and business proceeds 

1 Admission is of course by ticket, and the prices given for tickets to those 
who, having obtained them, sell them, run high, up to $30, or even §50. 



chap, i.xx NOMINATING CONVENTION AT WORK 193 

according to the order described in last chapter. First come 
the preliminaries, appointment of committees and chairmen, 
then the platform, and probably on the second day, but per- 
haps later, the nominations and balloting, the latter sometimes 
extending over several days. There is usually both a forenoon 
and an afternoon session. 

A European is astonished to see nine hundred men prepare 
to transact the two most difficult pieces of business an assembly 
can undertake, the solemn consideration of their principles, and 
the selection of the person they wish to place at the head of 
the nation, in the sight and hearing of twelve thousand other 
men and women. Observation of what follows does not lessen 
the astonishment. The convention presents in sharp contrast 
and frequent alternation, the two most striking features of 
Americans in public — their orderliness and their excitability. 
Everything is done according to strict rule, with a scrupulous 
observance of small formalities which European meetings 
would ignore or despise. Points of order almost too fine for a 
parliament are taken, argued, decided on by the chair, to whom 
every one bows. Yet the passions that sway the multitude are 
constantly bursting forth in storms of cheering or hissing at 
an allusion to a favourite aspirant or an obnoxious name, and 
five or six speakers often take the floor together, shouting and 
gesticulating at each other till the chairman obtains a hearing 
for one of them. Of course it depends on the chairman whether 
or no the convention sinks into a mob. A chairman with a 
weak voice, or a want of prompt decision, or a suspicion of 
partisanship, may bring the assembly to the verge of disaster, 
and it has more than once happened that when the confusion 
that prevailed would have led to an irregular vote which might 
have been subsequently disputed, the action of the manager 
acting for the winning horse has, by waiving some point of 
order or consenting to an adjournment, saved the party from 
disruption. Even in the noisiest scenes the singular good 
sense and underlying love of fair play — fair play according 
to the rules of the game, which do not exclude some dodges 
repugnant to an honourable man — will often reassert itself, 
and pull back the vehicle from the edge of the precipice. 

The chief interest of the earlier proceedings lies in the 
indications which speeches and votings give of the relative 

VOL. II o 



194 THE PARTY SYSTEM part hi 

strength of the factions. Sometimes a division on the choice 
of a chairman, or on the adoption of a rule, reveals the ten- 
dencies of the majority, or of influential leaders, in a way 
which sends the chances of an aspirant swiftly up or down the 
barometer of opinion. So when the nominating speeches come, 
it is not so much their eloquence that helps a nominee as the 
warmth with which the audience receives them, the volume of 
cheering and the length of time, sometimes fifteen minutes, 
during which the transport lasts. As might be guessed from 
the size of the audience which he addresses, an orator is ex- 
pected to " soar into the blue empyrean " at once. The rhetoric 
is usually pompous and impassioned. To read a speech, even 
a short speech, from copious notes, is neither irregular nor 
rare. 

While forenoon and. evening, perhaps even late evening, are 
occupied with the sittings of the convention, canvassing and 
intrigue go on more briskly than ever during the rest of the 
day and night. Conferences are held between delegations 
anxious to arrange for a union of forces on one candidate. 1 
Divided delegations hold meetings of their own members, meet- 
ings often long and stormy, behind closed doors, outside which 
a curious crowd listens to the angry voices within, and snatches 
at the reports which the dispersing members give of the result. 
Sometimes the whole issue of the convention hinges on the 
action of the delegates of a great State, which, like Xew York, 
under the unit rule, can throw seventy-two votes into the 
trembling scale. It has even happened, although this is 
against a well-settled custom, that a brazen aspirant himself 
goes the round of several delegations and tries to harangue 
them into supporting him. 

As it rarely happens that any aspirant is able to command at 

1 In the Democratic convention of 1884 it was well known that the choice 
of Mr. Cleveland, the leading Favourite, would depend on the action of the 
delegation of New York State, not only, however, because it cast the largest 
vote, hut because it was his own State, and because it was already foreseen 
that the presidential election would turn on the electoral vote of New York. 
Thus the struggle in the convention came to be really a duel between Mr. 
Cleveland and the Boss of Tammany, with whom Mr. Cleveland had at an 
earlier period in his career "locked horns/' In 1892, however, Mr. Cleveland 
was strong enough to win on the first ballot against the vote of the Xew York 
delegation which was given to the Boss of the State who had lately been its 
governor and was in league with the then Boss of Tam m any. 



chap, lxx NOMINATING CONVENTION AT WORK 195 

starting a majority of the whole convention, the object of each 
is to arrange a combination whereby he may gather from the 
supporters of other aspirants votes sufficient to make up the 
requisite majority, be it two-thirds, according to the Democratic 
rule, or a little more than a half, according to the Republican. 
Let us take the total number of votes at 820 — the figure in 
1888. There are usually two aspirants commanding each from 
230 to 330 ; one or two others with from 50 to 100, and the 
rest with much smaller figures, 10 to 30 each. A combination 
can succeed in one of two ways : (a) One of the stronger aspir- 
ants may pick up votes, sometimes quickly, sometimes by slow 
degrees, from the weaker candidates, sufficient to overpower the 
rival Favourite ; (b) Each of the strongest aspirants may hold 
his forces so well together that after repeated ballo tings it be- 
comes clear that neither can win against the resistance of the 
other. Neither faction will, however, give way, because there 
is usually bitterness between them, because each would feel 
humiliated, and because each aspirant has so many friends that 
his patronage will no more than suffice for the clients to whom 
he is pledged already. Hence one or other of the baffled Favour- 
ites suddenly transfers the votes he commands to some one 
of the weaker men, who then so rapidly " develops strength " 
that the rest of the minor factions go over to him, aud he obtains 
the requisite majority. 1 Experience has so well prepared the 
tacticians for one or other of these issues that the game is 
always played with a view to them. The first effort of the 
managers of a Favourite is to capture the minor groups of 
delegates who support one or other of the Favourite Sons and 
Dark Horses. Xot till this proves hopeless do they decide to 
sell themselves as dear as they can by taking up and carrying 
to victory a Dark Horse or perhaps even a Favourite Son, 
thereby retaining the pleasure of defeating the rival Favourite, 
while at the same time establishing a claim for themselves and 
their faction on the aspirant whom they cany. 2 

1 Suppose A and R , Favourites, to have each 300 votes. After some ballotings, 
A's friends, perceiving they cannot draw enough of the votes commanded by 
C, D, and F (who have each GO), and of G and H (who have each 20) to win, 
give their 300 votes to F. This gives him so considerable a lead that C, D, 
and G go over to him on the next ballot ; he has then 440, and either wins at 
once (Republican rule) or will win next ballot (Democratic rule). 

2 It will be understood that while the Favourites and Favourite Sons are 



196 THE PARTY SYSTEM part hi 

It may be asked why a Dark Horse often prevails against 
the Favourites, seeing that either of the latter has a much larger 
number of delegates in his favour. Ought not the wish of a 
very large group to have so much weight with the minor groups 
as to induce them to come over and carry the man whom a 
powerful section of the party obviously desires ? The reason 
why this does not happen is that a Favourite is often as much 
hated by one strong section as he is liked by another, and if the 
hostile section is not strong enough to keep him out by its un- 
aided vote, it is sure to be able to do so by transferring itself 
to some other aspirant. Moreover, a Favourite has often less 
chance with the minor groups than a Dark Horse may have. 
He has not the charm of novelty. His "ins and outs" are 
known; the delegations weighed his merits before they left 
their own State, and if they, or the State convention that in- 
structed them, decided against him then, they are slow to adopt 
him now. They have formed a habit of " antagonizing " him, 
whereas they have no hostility to some new and hitherto incon- 
spicuous aspirant. 

Let us now suppose resolutions and nominating speeches 
despatched, and the curtain raised for the third act of the con- 
vention. The chairman raps loudly with his gavel, 1 announcing 
the call of States for the vote. A hush falls on the multitude, 
a long deep breath is drawn, tally books are opened and pencils 
grasped, while the clerk reads slowly the names of State after 
State. As each is called, the chairman of its delegation rises 
and announces the votes it gives, bursts of cheering from each 
faction in the audience welcoming the votes given to the object 
of its wishes. Inasmuch as the disposition of most of the dele- 
gates has become known beforehand, not only to the managers, 
but to the public through the press, the loudest welcome is 
given to a delegate or delegation whose vote turns out better 
than had been predicted. 

In the first scene of this third and decisive act the Favourites 

before the convention from the first, some of the Dark Horses may not appear 
as aspirants till well on in the balloting. They may be persons who have 
never been thought of before as possible candidates. There is therefore always 
a great element of exciting uncertainty. 

1 The gavel is a sort of auctioneer's hammer used by a chairman to call the 
attention of the meeting to what he is saying or to restore order. That used 
at a national convention is often made of pieces of wood from every State. 



chap, lxx NOMINATING CONVENTION AT WORK 197 

have, of course, the leading parts. Their object is to produce 
an impression of overwhelming strength, so the whole of this 
strength is displayed, unless, as occasionally happens, an astute 
manager holds back a few votes. This is also the bright hour 
of the Favourite Sons. Each receives the vote of his State, but 
each usually rinds that he has little to expect from external 
help, and his friends begin to consider into what other camp 
they had better march over. The Dark Horses are in the back- 
ground, nor is it yet possible to say which (if any) of them 
will come to the front. 

The first ballot seldom decides much, yet it gives a new 
aspect to the battle-field, for the dispositions of some groups of 
voters who had remained doubtful is now revealed, and the 
managers of each aspirant are better able to tell, from the way 
in which certain delegations are divided, in what quarters they 
are most likely to gain or lose votes on the subsequent ballots. 
They whisper hastily together, and try, in the few moments 
they have before the second ballot is upon them, to prepare 
some new line of defence or attack. 

The second ballot, taken in the same way, sometimes reveals 
even more than the first. The smaller and more timid delega- 
tions, smitten with the sense of their weakness, despairing of 
their own aspirant, and anxious to be on the winning side, begin 
to give way ; or if this does not happen on the second ballot, 
it may do so on the third. Eifts open in their ranks, individ- 
uals or groups of delegates go over to one of the stronger can- 
didates, some having all along meant to do so, and thrown their 
first vote merely to obey instructions received or fulfil the letter 
of a promise given. The gain of even twenty or thirty votes 
for one of the leading candidates over his strength on the pre- 
ceding ballot so much inspirits his friends, and is so likely to 
bring fresh recruits to his standard, that a wily manager will 
often, on the first ballot, throw away some of his votes on a 
harmless antagonist that he may by rallying them increase the 
total of his candidate on the second, and so convey the impres- 
sion of growing strength. 

The breathing space between each ballot and that which 
follows is used by the managers for hurried consultations. 
Aides-de-camp are sent to confirm a wavering delegation, or to 
urge one which has been supporting a now hopeless aspirant 



198 THE PARTY SYSTEM part hi 

to seize this moment for dropping Mm and coming over to the 
winning standard. Or the aspirant himself, who, hundreds of 
miles away, sits listening to the click of the busy wires, is 
told how matters stand, and asked to advise forthwith what 
course his friends shall take. Forthwith it must be, for the 
next ballot is come, and may give the battle-field a new aspect, 
promising victory or presaging irretrievable defeat. 

Any one who has taken part in an election, be it the election 
of a pope by cardinals, of a town-clerk by the city council, of a 
fellow by the dons of a college, of a schoolmaster by the board 
of trustees, of a pastor by a congregation, knows how much 
depends on generalship. In every body of electors there are 
men who have no minds of their own ; others who cannot make 
up their minds till the decisive moment, and are determined by 
the last word or incident ; others whose wavering inclination 
yields to the pressure or follows the example of a stronger col- 
league. There are therefore chances of running in by surprise 
an aspirant whom few may have desired, but still fewer have 
positively disliked, chances specially valuable when contro- 
versy has spent itself between two equally matched competi- 
tors, so that the majority are ready to jump at a new suggestion. 
The wary tactician awaits his opportunity : he improves the 
brightening prospects of his aspirant to carry him with a run 
before the opposition is ready with a counter move ; or if he 
sees a strong antagonist, he invents pretexts for delay till he 
has arranged a combination by which that antagonist may be 
foiled. Sometimes he will put forward an aspirant destined 
to be abandoned, and reserve till several votings have been 
taken the man with whom he means to win. All these arts are 
familiar to the convention manager, whose power is seen not 
merely in the dealing with so large a number of individuals 
and groups whose dispositions he must grasp and remember, 
but in the cool promptitude with which he decides on his 
course amid the noise and passion and distractions of twelve 
thousand shouting spectators. Scarcely greater are the facul- 
ties of combination and coolness of head needed by a general 
in the midst of a battle, who has to bear in mind the position 
of every one of his own corps and to divine the positions of 
those of the enemy's corps which remain concealed, who must 
vary his plan from hour to hour according to the success or 



ohaf.lxx NOMINATING CONVENTION AT WORK I'M) 

failure of each of his movements and the new facts that are 
successively disclosed, and who does all this under the roar 
and through the smoke o\' cannon. 

One balloting follows another till what is called "the break" 
comes. It comes when the weaker factions, perceiving that the 
men of their first preference cannot succeed, transfer their votes 
to that one among the aspirants whom they like best, or whose 
strength they see growing. When the faction of one aspirant 
has set the example, others are quick to follow, and thus it may 
happen that after thirty or forty ballots have been taken with 
few changes of strength as between the two leading competitors, 
a single ballot, once the break has begun, and the column of one 
or both of these competitors has been " staggered," decides the 
battle. 

If one Favourite is much stronger from the first than any 
other, the break may come soon and come gently, i.e. each ballot 
shows a gain for him on the preceding ballot, and he marches 
so steadily to victory that resistance is felt to be useless. But 
if two well-matched rivals have maintained the struggle through 
twenty or thirty ballots, so that the long strain has wrought up 
all minds to unwonted excitement, the break, when it comes, 
comes with fierce intensity, like that which used to mark the 
charge of the Old Guard. The defeat becomes a rout. Bat- 
talion after battalion goes over to the victors, while the van- 
quished, ashamed of their candidate, try to conceal themselves 
by throwing away their colours and joining in the cheers that 
acclaim the conqueror. In the picturesquely technical language 
of politicians, it is a Stampede. 

To stampede a convention is the steadily contemplated aim 
of every manager who knows he cannot win on the first ballot. 1 
He enjoys it as the most dramatic form of victory, he values it 
because it evokes an enthusiasm whose echo reverberates all 
over the Union, and dilates the party heart with something like 
that sense of supernatural guidance which Eome used to have 
when the cardinals chose a pope by the sudden inspiration of 

1 To check stampeding, the Republican convention of 187G adopted a rule 
providing that the roll-call of States should in no case he dispensed with. This 
makes surprise and tumult less dangerous. (See Stanwood's useful History 
of Presidential Elections.) With the same view, the Republican convention 
of 1888 ruled that no vote given on any balloting should be changed before the 
end of that balloting. 



200 THE PARTY SYSTEM part Hi 

the Holy Spirit. Sometimes it comes of itself, when various 
delegations, smitten at the same moment by the sense that one 
of the aspirants is destined to conquer, go over to him all at 
once. 1 Sometimes it is due to the action of the aspirant him- 
self. In 1880 Mr. Blaine, who was one of the two leading 
Favourites, perceiving that he could not be carried against the 
resistance of the Grant men, suddenly telegraphed to his friends 
to transfer their votes to General Garfield, till then a scarcely 
considered candidate. In 1884 General Logan, also by tele- 
graph, turned over his votes to Mr. Blaine between the third 
and fourth ballot, thereby assuring the already probable triumph 
of that Favourite. 

When a stampede is imminent, only one means exists of 
averting it, — that of adjourning the convention so as to stop 
the panic and gain time for a combination against the winning 
aspirant. A resolute manager always tries this device, but he 
seldom succeeds, for the winning side resists the motion for 
adjournment, and the vote which it casts on that issue is prac- 
tically a vote for its aspirant, against so much of the field as 
has any fight left in it. This is the most critical and exciting 
moment of the whole battle. A dozen speakers rise at once, 
some to support, some to resist the adjournment, some to pro- 
test against debate upon it, some to take points of order, few 
of which can be heard over the din of the howling multitude. 
Meanwhile, the managers who have kept their heads rush 
swiftly about through friendly delegations, trying at this su- 
preme moment to rig up a combination which may resist the 
advancing tempest. Tremendous efforts are made to get the 
second Favourite's men to abandon their chief and " swing into 
line " for some Dark Horse or Favourite Son, with whose votes 
they may make head till other factions rally to them. 

"In vain, in vain, the all-consuming hour 
Relentless falls — ' ' 

The battle is already lost, the ranks are broken and cannot be 
rallied, nothing remains for brave men but to cast their last 
votes against the winner and fall gloriously around their still 

1 Probably a Dark Horse, for the Favourite Sons, having had their turn in 
the earlier ballotings, have been discounted; and are apt to excite more 
jealousy among the delegates of other States. 



Chap, iax NOMINATING CONVENTION AT WORK 201 

waving banner. The motion to adjourn is defeated, and the 
next ballot ends the strife with a hurricane of cheering for the 
chosen leader. Then a sudden calm falls on the troubled sea. 
What is done is done, and whether done for good or for ill, the 
best face must be put upon it. Accordingly, the proposer of one 
of the defeated aspirants moves that the nomination be made 
unanimous, and the more conspicuous friends of other aspirants 
hasten to show their good-humour and their loyalty to the party 
as a whole by seconding this proposition. Then, perhaps, a 
gigantic portrait of the candidate, provided by anticipation, is 
hoisted up, a signal for fresh enthusiasm, or a stuffed eagle is 
carried in procession round the hall. 

Nothing further remains but to nominate a candidate for the 
vice-presidency, a matter of small moment now that the great 
issue has been settled. This nomination is frequently used to 
console one of the defeated aspirants for the presidential nom- 
ination, or is handed over to his friends to be given to some 
politician of their choice. If there be a contest, it is seldom 
prolonged beyond two or three ballots. The convention is at 
an end, and in another day the whole host of exhausted dele- 
gates and camp-followers, hoarse with shouting, is streaming 
home along the railways. 

The fever heat of the convention is almost matched by that 
of the great cities, and indeed of every spot over the Union to 
which there runs an electric wire. Every incident, speech, vote, 
is instantly telegraphed to all the cities. Crowds gather round 
the newspaper offices, where frequent editions are supple- 
mented by boards displaying the latest bulletins. In Wash- 
ington, Congress can hardly be kept together, because every 
politician is personally interested in every move of the game. 
When at last the result is announced, the partisans of the 
chosen candidate go wild with delight; salvos of artillery are 
fired off, processions with bands parade the streets, ratification 
meetings are announced for the same evening, " campaign 
clubs " bearing the candidate's name are organized on the spot. 
The excitement is of course greatest in the victor's own State, 
or in the city where he happens to be resident. A crowd 
rushes to his house, squeezes his hand to a quivering pulp, 
congratulates him on being virtually President, while the keen- 
eyed reporter telegraphs far and wide how he smiled and spoke 



202 THE PARTY SYSTEM part hi 

when the news was brought. Defeated aspirants telegraph to 
their luckier rival their congratulations on his success, promis- 
ing him support in the campaign. Interviewers fly to promi- 
nent politicians, and cross-examine them as to what they think 
of the nomination. But in two days all is still again, and a 
lull of exhaustion follows till the real business of the contest 
begins some while later with the issue of the letter of accept- 
ance, in which the candidate declares his views and outlines his 
policy. 



CHAPTER LXXI 

THE PRESIDENTIAL CAMPAIGN 

A presidential election in America is something to which 
Europe can show nothing similar. Though the issues which fall 
to be decided by the election of a Chamber in France or Italy, 
or of a House of Commons in England, are often far graver 
than those involved in the choice of A or B to be executive 
chief magistrate for four years, the commotion and excitement, 
the amount of " organization," of speaking, writing, telegraph- 
ing, and shouting, is incomparably greater in the United States. 
It is only the salient features of these contests that I shall 
attempt to sketch, for the detail is infinite. 

The canvass usually lasts about four months. It begins soon 
after both of the great parties have chosen their candidate, i.e. 
before the middle of July ; and it ends early in November, on 
the day when the presidential electors are chosen simultane- 
ously in and by all the States. The summer heats and the 
absence of the richer sort of people at the seaside or mountain 
resorts keep down the excitement during July and August ; it 
rises in September, and boils furiously through October. 

The first step is for each nominated candidate to accept his 
nomination in a letter, sometimes as long as a pamphlet, setting 
forth his views of the condition of the nation and the policy 
which the times require. Such a letter is meant to strike the 
keynote for the whole orchestra of orators. It is, of course, 
published everywhere, extolled by friendly and dissected by 
hostile journals. Together with the "platform" adopted at 
the national party convention, it is the official declaration of 
party principles, to be referred to as putting the party case, 
no less than the candidate himself, before the nation. 

While the candidate is composing his address, the work of 
organization goes briskly forward, for in American elections 



204 THE PARTY SYSTEM part hi 

everything is held to depend on organization. A central or 
national party committee nominated by the national conven- 
tion, and consisting of one member from each State, gets its 
members together and forms a plan for the conduct of the can- 
vass. It raises money by appealing to the wealthy and zealous 
men of the party for subscriptions, and, of course, presses those 
above all who have received something in the way of an office 
or other gratification from the party. 1 It communicates with 
the leading statesmen and orators of the party, and arranges 
in what district of the country each shall take the stump. It 
issues shoals of pamphlets, and forms relations with party 
newspapers. It allots grants from the "campaign fund" to 
particular persons and State committees, to be spent by them 
for " campaign purposes," an elastic term which covers a good 
deal of illicit expenditure. Enormous sums are gathered and 
disbursed by this committee, and the accounts submitted do 
not, as may be supposed, answer all the questions they sug- 
gest. The committee directs its speakers and its funds chiefly 
to the doubtful States, those in which eloquence or expenditure 
may turn the balance either way. There are seldom more than 
six or seven such States at any one election, possibly fewer. 

The efforts of the national committee are seconded not only 
by State committees, but by an infinite number of minor organi- 
zations over the country, in the rural districts no less than in 
the cities. Some of these are permanent. Others are created 
for the election alone ; and as they contemplate a short life, 
they make it a merry one. These "campaign clubs," which 
usually bear the candidates' names, are formed on every imag- 
inable basis, that of locality, of race, of trade or profession, of 
university affiliation. There are Irish clubs, Italian clubs, 
German clubs, Scandinavian clubs, Polish clubs, coloured (i.e. 
negro) clubs, Orange clubs. There are young men's clubs, law- 
yers' clubs, dry-goods clubs, insurance men's clubs, shoe and 
leather clubs. There are clubs of the graduates of various 
colleges. Their work consists in canvassing the voters, making 
up lists of friends, opponents, and doubtfuls, getting up pro- 

1 As a recent statute forbids the levying of assessments for party purposes 
on members of the Federal civil service, it is deemed prudent to have no 
Federal official on the committee, lest in demanding subscriptions from his 
subordinates he should transgress the law. 



ohap. lxxi THE PRESIDENTIAL CAMPAIGN 205 

cessions and parades, holding meetings, and generally "booming 

all the time." 

This is mostly unpaid Labour, But there are also thousands 
of paid agents at work, canvassing 3 distributing pamphlets or 
leaflets, lecturing od behalf of the candidate. It is in America 
no reproach to a political speaker that he receives a fee or a 
salary. Even men of eminence are permitted to receive not 
only their travelling expenses, but a round sum. Whether the 
candidate himself takes the field depends on his popular gifts. 
If he is a brilliant speaker, his services are too valuable to be 
lost; and he is sent on "a tour through the doubtful States, where 
he speaks for weeks together twice or thrice on most days, fill- 
ing up the intervals with "receptions" at which he has to 
shake hands with hundreds of male callers, and be presented 
to ladies scarcely less numerous. 1 The leading men of the 
party are, of course, pressed into the service. Even if they 
dislike and have opposed the nomination of the particular can- 
didate, party loyalty and a lively sense of favours to come force 
them to work for the person whom the party has chosen. An 
eminent Irishman or an eminent German is especially valuable 
for a stumping tour, because he influences the vote of his coun- 
trymen. Similarly each senator is expected to labour assidu- 
ously at his own State, where presumably his influence is 
greatest, and any refusal to do so is deemed a pointed disap- 
proval of the candidate. 

The committees print and distribute great quantities of cam- 
paign literature, pamphlets, speeches, letters, leaflets, and one 
can believe that this printed matter is more serviceable than it 
would be in England, because a larger part of the voters live in 
quiet country places, and like something to read in the evening. 
Even novelettes are composed in the interests of a candidate, 
wherein lovers talk about tariffs under the moon. Sometimes 
a less ingenuous use is made of the press. On the very eve of 
election of 1880, too late for a contradiction to obtain equal 
publicity, a forged letter, purporting to come from Mr. Garfield, 
and expressing views on Chinese immigration and labour, dis- 
tasteful to the Pacific States, was lithographed and scattered 
broadcast over California, where it told heavily against him. 

1 Sometimes he stumps along a line of railroad, making ten-minute speeches 
from the end platform of the last car. 



206 THE PARTY SYSTEM part hi 

Most constant and effective of all is the action of the news- 
papers. The chief journals have for two or three months a 
daily leading article recommending their own and assailing the 
hostile candidate, with a swarm of minor editorial paragraphs 
bearing on the election. Besides these there are reports of 
speeches delivered, letters to the editor with the editor's com- 
ments at the end, stories about the candidates, statements as 
to the strength of each party in particular States, counties, 
and cities. An examination of a few of the chief newspapers 
during the months of September and October, 1884, showed 
that their " campaign matter n of all kinds formed between 
one-half and one-third of the total letterpress of the paper 
(excluding advertisements), and this, be it remembered, every 
day during those two months. The most readable part of this 
matter consists in the reports of the opinion of individual 
persons, more or less prominent, on the candidate. You find, 
for instance, a paragraph stating that the Eev. Dr. A., presi- 
dent of such and such a college, or Mr. B., the philanthropist 
who is head of the Y Z Bank, or ex-Governor C, or Judge D., 
has said he thinks the candidate a model of chivalric virtue, 
or fit only for a felon's cell, as the case may be, and that he 
will vote for or against him accordingly. 1 Occasionally the 
prominent man is called on by an interviewer and gives a full 
statement of his views, or he writes to a young friend who 
has asked his advice in a private letter, which is immediately 
published. The abundance of these expressions or citations 
of the opinions of private citizens supplies a curious evidence 
of the disposition of some sections in a democracy to look up to 
its intellectual and moral leaders. For the men thus appealed 
to are nearly all persons eminent by their character, ability, 
learning, or success in business ; the merely rich man is cited 
but rarely, and as if his opinion did not matter, though of 
course his subscription may. Judges and lawyers, universit}' 

1 Sometimes a sort of amateur census is taken of the persons occupied in 
one place in some particular employment, as, for instance, of the professors in 
a particular college, or even of the clerks in a particular store, these being 
taken as samples of store-clerks or professors generally ; and the party organ 
triumphantly claims that three-fourths of their votes will he cast for its 
candidate. Among the '"throbs of Connecticut's pulse," I recollect an esti- 
mate of the " proclivities ? * of the workmen in the "YTillimantic mills in that 
State. 



chap, lxxi TED IAX CAMPAIGN 

digni: men. are, next to the clergy, 1 the per- 

sons m< el 

The function oi I p ery char 

of the country ami the . They used during the period 

from 1820 to I s " _ive politics a wide berth, for not only 

would their ad of any particular ive offended a 

section among their flocks, but the general sentiment condemned 
the immixture in politics of a clerical element. The struggle 
a moral issue, brought them into more 
frequent public activity. Since the close of that struggle they 
have again tended to retire. However, the excitement of a 
presidential election suspends all rules ; and when questions 
affecting the moral character of the candidates are involved, 
clerical intervention is deemed natural. Thus in the contest 
he newspapers were full of the opinions of clergy- 
men. Sermons were reported it they seemed to bear upon 
the issue. Paragraphs appeared saying that such and such a 
pastor would carry three-fourths of his congregation with him, 
whereas the conduct of another in appearing at a meeting on 
behalf of the opposing candidate was much blamed by his 
flock. 2s ot many ministers actually took the platform, though 
there was a general wish to have them as chairmen. But one, 
the late Mr. Henry Ward Beecher. did great execution by his 
powerful oratory, artillery all the more formidable because it 
was turned against the candidate of the party to which he had 
through his long lire belonged. Xor was there any feature in 
the canvass of that same candidate more remarkable than the 
assembly of 1018 clergymen of all denominations (including a 
Jewish rabbi), which gathered at the Fifth Avenue Hotel in 
New York, to meet him and assure him of their support on 
moral grounds immediately before the election day. 2 

1 An eminent Unitarian elers^rman having written a letter condemning a 
candidate, the leading organ of that candidate in sneering at it, remarked that 
after all. Dr. Clarke's coachman's vote was as g - Dr. Clarke's : to which 

it was rejoined that hundreds of voters would follow Dr. Clarke, and hundreds 
more be offended at this disrespectful reference to him. 

1 One of the clerical speakers spoke of the opposite candidate as receiving 
the support of " rum, Romanism, and rebellion/' This phrase, eagerly caught 
up, and repeated by hostile a . incensed the Roman Catholics of New 

York, and wa- eren believed to have turned the election against the candidate 
in whose interest the alliteration was invented. Nothing so dangerous as a 
friend. 



THE PARTY SYSTEM 



From a class usually excluded from politics by custom to a 
class excluded by law, the transition is easy. Women as a 
rule (setting aside the two woman suffrage Western States) 
keep as much aloof from electoral contests in America as in 
continental Europe, and certainly more than in England, for I 
have never heard of their forming an organization to canvass 
the voters of a district in America, as the (Conservative) 
Primrose League and the Women's Liberal Associations do 
in England. Nor are women appointed delegates from any 
ward primary, 1 as they have lately been in several places in 
England. However, the excitement of a close struggle some- 
times draws even women into the vortex. Receptions are 
tendered by the ladies of each party to the candidate, and 
are reported in the public press as politically significant, while 
among the letters which appear in the newspapers not a few 
bear female signatures. 

Speaking and writing and canvassing are common to elec- 
tions all over the world. What is peculiar to America is the 
amazing development of the " demonstration " as a means for 
raising enthusiasm. Eor three months, processions, usually 
with brass bands, flags, badges, crowds of cheering spectators, 
are the order of the day and night from end to end of the 
country. The Young Men's Pioneer Club of a village in the 
woods of Michigan turns out in the summer evening ; the Demo- 
crats or Eepublicans of Chicago or Philadelphia leave their 
business to march through the streets of these great cities 
many thousand strong. 

When a procession is exceptionally large, it is called a 
Parade. In New York City, on the 29th of October, 1884, the 
business men who supported Mr. James Gillespie Blaine held 
such a demonstration. They were organized by profession or 
occupation: the lawyers, eight hundred strong, forming one 
battalion, the dry-goods men another, the Produce Exchange a 
third, the bankers a fourth, the brokers a fifth, the jewellers 
a sixth, the Petroleum Exchange a seventh, and so on ad 
infinitum. They started from the Bowling-green near the 
south end of Manhattan Island, and marched right up the city 

1 Women, however, appear as delegates at the conventions of the Prohibi- 
tion party ; and there have been instances in which they have been admitted 
as delegates to a Republican State convention in Massachusetts. 



chap. i\\i THE PRESIDENTIAL CAMPAIGN 209 

along Broadway to Madison Square, where Mr. Blaine reviewed 
and addressed them. Rain fell incessantly, and the streets 
were deep with mud. but neither rain above nor mud below 
damped the spirits of this great army, which tramped steadily 
along, chanting various "campaign refrains," such as 

" Five, Five, Five Cent Fare ; " 1 

but most frequently 

" Hhune, Blaine, James G. Blaine, 
We don't care a bit for the rain, 

0_o_( )_o— 1 1 i_o." 2 

There were said to have been 25,000 business men in this 
parade, which was followed soon after by another more miscel- 
laneous Blaine parade of G0,000 Kepublicans, as well as (of 
course) by counter parades of Democrats. A European, who 
stands amazed at the magnitude of these demonstrations, is apt 
to ask whether the result attained is commensurate with the 
money, time, and effort given to them. His American friends 
answer that, as with advertising, it is not to be supposed that 
shrewd and experienced men would thus spend their money 
unless convinced that the expenditure was reproductive. The 
parade and procession business, the crowds, the torches, the 
badges, the flags, the shouting, all this pleases the participants by 
making them believe they are effecting something; it impresses 
the spectators by showing them that other people are in earnest, 
it strikes the imagination of those who in country hamlets 
read of the doings in the great city. In short, it keeps up the 
" boom," and an American election is held to be, truly or 
falsely, largely a matter of booming. 

If the cynical visitor smiles at these displays, he is con- 
strained to admire the good-humour and good order which 
prevail. Xeither party in the Northern, Middle, and Western 
States dreams of disturbing the parades or meetings of the 
other. You might believe, from the acclamations which accom- 

1 Mr. Cleveland had, as Governor of New York State, vetoed as unconstitu- 
tional a bill establishing a uniform fare of 5 cents on the New York City- 
elevated railroads. This act was supposed to have alienated the working men 
and ruined his presidential prospects. 

- In the State elections held in Ohio shortly beforehand, the Republicans 
had been victorious, and the omen was gladly caught up. 

VOL. II P 



210 THE PARTY SYSTEM part in 

pauy a procession, that the whole population was with it, for if 
opponents are present, they do not hoot or hiss, and there are 
always enough sympathizers to cheer. During the hotly con- 
tested elections of 1880, 1884, 1888, and 1892, hardly any col- 
lisions or disturbances were reported from California to Maine. 
Even in Virginia, Maryland, Missouri, where the old Southern 
party is apt to let its angry passions rise against the negroes 
and their white Republican allies, the breaches of order were 
neither numerous nor serious. Over four-fifths of the Southern 
States perfect quiet prevailed. It is true that one party could 
there count on an overwhelming majority, so that there was 
no excuse for the one to bully nor any inducement for the 
other to show fight. 

The maxim that nothing succeeds like success is nowhere so 
cordially and consistently accepted as in America. It is the 
corner-stone of all election work. The main effort of a candi- 
date's orators and newspapers is to convince the people that 
their side is the winning one, for there are sure to be plenty of 
voters anxious to be on that side, not so much from any ad- 
vantage to be gained for themselves as because reverence for 
"the People" makes them believe that the majority are right. 
Hence the exertions to prove that the Germans, or the Irish, 
or the working men are going for candidate X or candidate Y. 
Hence the reports of specimen canvasses showing that 70 
per cent of the clerks in a particular bank or 80 per cent of 
the professors in a particular theological college have declared 
themselves for X. Hence the announcements of the betting odds 
for a particular candidate, and the assertion that the supporters 
of the other man who had put large sums on him are now be- 
ginning to hedge. 1 But the best evidence to which a party can 
appeal is its winning minor elections which come off shortly 
before the great presidential one. In two States the choice of 
a governor and other State officers took place, till lately, within 
the month prior to the 8th of November, in two or three it still 
takes place in September. If the State is a safe one for the 
Republicans or the Democrats (as the case may be), the votes 

1 There is a great deal of betting on elections, so much that bribery is often 
alleged to be practised by those who are heavily involved. The constitutions 
or statutes of some States make it an offence to give or take a bet on an 
election. 



CHAr. lxxi THE PRESIDENTIAL CAMPAIGN 211 

cast are compared with those cast at the last preceding simi- 
lar election, and the inference drawn that one or other party is 
gaining. If it is a doubtful State, the interest is still more keen, 
and every nerve is strained to carry an election whose issue will 
presage, and by presaging contribute to, success in the presi- 
dential struggle. Possibly the candidate or some of his ablest 
speakers stump this State ; probably also it is drenched with 
money. The inferences from such a contest may be thought 
uncertain, because State elections are always complicated with 
local questions, and with the character of the particular candi- 
dates for State offices. But it is a maxim among politicians 
that in a presidential year local issues vanish, the voters being 
so warmed with party spirit that they go solid for their party 
in spite of all local or personal obstacles. The truth of this 
view was illustrated by the fact that Ohio often returns a 
majority of Democrats to Congress and has a Democratic major- 
ity in her own legislature, but has for several elections given a 
majority for the presidential candidate of the Kepublican party. 
The eagerness shown to carry the October elections in this great 
and often doubtful State used to be scarcely second to that dis- 
played in the presidential contest. She has now (and Indiana 
likewise) put her fall elections later, and makes them coincide 
(every second term) with the presidential election, in order to 
avoid the tremendous strain which they had been forced to bear. 
Before this change it was often made an argument why the 
party should select its candidate from Ohio, that this would 
give a better chance of winning the preliminary canter, and 
thereby securing the advantage of a presageful victory. 1 

So far I have described the contest as one between two 
parties and two candidates only. But it is usually complicated 
by the appearance of other minor parties and minor candidates 
who, although they have no chance of success, affect the main 
struggle by drawing off strength from one side or the other. 

1 There is a touch of superstition in the value set in America upon the first 
indications of the popular sentiment, like that which made the Romans attach 
such weight to the vote of the century first called up to vote in the comltia 
centuriata. It was selected by lot, perhaps not merely because the advantage 
of calling first a century which he might know to be favourable to his own 
view or candidate was too great a one to be left to the presiding magistrate, 
but also because its declaration was thus deemed to be an indication of the 
will of the gods who governed the lot. 



212 THE PARTY SYSTEM part hi 

In the last four elections the Prohibitionist party and the 
Greenback (now the Labour) party each held a national conven- 
tion, nominated candidates for presidency and vice-presidency, 
and obtained at the polls a number of votes far too small to 
carry any single State, and therefore, of course, too small to 
choose any presidential electors, but sufficient to affect, perhaps 
to turn, the balance of strength between Republicans and Demo- 
crats in two or three of the doubtful States. The Prohibitionist 
candidate has drawn most of his votes from the Republican 
side; the Greenbacker or Labour man from the Democratic: 
hence there is apt to be a sort of tacit alliance during the cam- 
paign between the Republican organs and the Labour party, 
between the Democratic organs and the Prohibitionist; and 
conversely much ill blood between Republicans and Prohibi- 
tionists, between Democrats and Labour men. Any one can 
see what an opening for intrigue is given by these complica- 
tions, recently increased by the appearance on the scene of the 
" People's Party," and how much they add to the difficulty of 
predicting the result of the contest. The area of that contest 
is a continent, and in the various regions of the continent forces 
different in nature and varying in strength are at work. 



CHAPTER LXXII 

THE ISSUES IN PRESIDENTIAL ELECTIONS 

Upon what does a presidential election tnrn ? The presiden- 
tial candidate has a double character. He is put forward as 
being individually qualified for the great place of executive head 
of the nation, because he is a man of integrity, energy, firmness, 
intellectual power, experience in affairs. He is also recom- 
mended as a prominent member of a great national party, 
inspired by its traditions, devoted to its principles, and prepared 
to carry them out not only in his properly executive capacity, 
but, what is more important, as virtually a third branch of the 
legislature, armed with a veto on bills passed by Congress. His 
election may therefore be advocated or opposed either on the 
ground of his personal qualities or of his political professions 
and party affiliations. Here we have a marked difference 
between the American and European systems, because in Eng- 
land, France, Germany, and Italy, elections turn chiefly on the 
views of the parties, secondarily on the character of individual 
leaders, seeing that the leaders are not chosen directly by the 
people, but are persons who have come to the top in the legis- 
latures of those countries, or have been (in Germany) raised to 
office by the Crown. In America, therefore, we have a source of 
possible confusion between issues of two wholly distinct kinds 
— those which affect the personal qualifications of the candi- 
date, and those which regard the programme of his party. 

"Whether, in any given presidential election, the former or 
the latter class of issues are the more conspicuous and decisive, 
depends partly on the political questions which happen to be 
then before the people, partly on the more or less marked in- 
dividuality of the rival candidates. Erom about 1850 down to 
1876, questions, first of the extension of slavery, then of its 
extinction, then of the reconstruction of the Union, had divided 

213 



214 THE PARTY SYSTEM part hi 

the nation, and made every contest a contest of principles and 
of practical measures. Since the controversies raised by the 
war have been settled, there have been few real differences of 
political principle between the parties, and questions of per- 
sonal fitness have therefore become relatively more important. 
The object of each party naturally is to put forward as many 
good political issues as it can, claiming for itself the merit of 
having always been on the popular side. Any one who should 
read the campaign literature of the Republicans would fancy 
that they were opposed to the Democrats on many important 
points. When he took up the Democratic speeches and pam- 
phlets, he would be again struck by the serious divergences 
between the parties, which, however, would seem to arise, not 
on the points raised by the Republicans, but on other points 
which the Republicans had not referred to. In other words, 
the aim of each party is to force on its antagonist certain issues 
which the antagonist rarely accepts, so that although there is a 
vast deal of discussion and declamation on political topics, there 
are few on which either party directly traverses the doctrines 
of the other. Each pummels, not his true enemy, but a stuffed 
figure set up to represent that enemy. During the presidential 
elections of 1880 and 1884, for instance, the Republicans sought 
to force to the front the issue of Protection versus Free Trade, 
which the Democrats refused to accept, having avowed Pro- 
tectionists within their own ranks, and knowing that the bulk 
of the nation was (at most) prepared only for certain reductions 
in the tariff. Thus while Republican orators were advocating 
a protective tariff on a thousand platforms, hardly a Democrat 
ventured to refer to the subject except by saying that he would 
not refer to it. Both sides declared against monopolists and the 
power of corporations. Both professed to be the friends of civil 
service reform. Both promised to protect the rights of the 
Americans all over the world, to withstand Bismarck in his 
attacks on American bacon, and to rescue American citizens 
from British dungeons. Both, however, were equally zealous 
for peace and good-will among the nations, and had no idea of 
quarrelling with any European power. These appeals and pro- 
fessions made no great impression upon the voters. The 
American, like the Englishman, usually votes with his party, 
right or wrong, and when there is little distinction of view 



chap, lxxii ISSUES IN PRESIDENTIAL ELECTIONS 215 

between the parlies it becomes all the easier to stick to your 
old friends. The tariff issue, however, told somewhat in favour 
of the Republicans; ;nul while the Southern men voted against 
the Republican party because it was the party which had 
carried on the war and crushed Secession, the bulk of the North 
voted for that party for the same reason. It was by associa- 
tions from the past rather than by arguments on the present 
and the future that men's action was determined. 

The next election, that of 1888, is remarkable for the fact 
that the victory of the part}^ which had been defeated in 1884 
was mainly due to a personal intrigue, a secret " deal," which 
is believed to have turned over from the Democrats to the 
Republicans the thirty-six electoral votes of New York State. 
In the contest of 1892 the Democrats imitated the Republican 
tactics of 1881 by attacking the latter party upon an issue (that 
of the Federal Elections or so-called "Force" Bill) which the 
Republicans had carefully avoided, and which they refused to 
accept. The protective tariff did on this occasion raise a 
definite issue and materially affect the result. But as regards 
currency questions, profound and important as they were, the 
" platforms " of the two great parties differed but slightly, and 
neither could command the allegiance to its platform of the 
whole of its rank and file. In particular the strange spectacle 
was presented of a candidate avowing strong and clear views, 
who found himself in this weighty matter more in accordance 
with the bulk of his Republican opponents than with a large 
section of his Democratic supporters. 

When political controversy is languid, personal issues come 
to the front. They are in one sense small, but not for that 
reason less exciting. Whoever has sat in any body of men, 
from a college debating society up to a legislative chamber, 
knows that no questions raise so much warmth, and are 
debated with so much keenness as questions affecting the 
character and conduct of individual men. They evoke some 
of what is best and much of what is worst in human nature. 
In a presidential election it is impossible to avoid discussing 
the personal merits of the candidates, because much depends 
on those merits. It has also proved impossible to set limits 
to the discussion. Unmitigated publicity is a condition of 
eminence in America; and the excitement in one of these 



216 THE PARTY SYSTEM part hi 

contests rises so high that (at elections in which personal 
issues are prominent) the canons of decorum which American 
custom at other times observes, are cast aside by speakers and 
journalists. The air is thick with charges, defences, recrimi- 
nations, till the voter knows not what to believe. 

These censures are referable to three classes. One includes 
what is called the candidate's "war record." To have been 
disloyal to the Union in the hour of its danger is a reproach. To 
have fought for the North, still more to have led a Northern 
regiment or division, covers a multitude of sins. It is the 
greatest of blessings for America that she fights so seldom, 
for in no country do military achievements carry a candidate 
farther, not that the people love war, for they do not, but 
because success in a sphere so remote from their ordinary life 
touches their imagination, marks a man out from his fellows, 
associates his name with their passionate patriotism, gives him 
a claim on the gratitude, not of a party, but of the nation as a 
whole. His prowess in repulsing the British troops at New 
Orleans made Andrew Jackson twice President, in spite of 
grave faults of temper and judgment. Some Indian skirmishes 
fixed the choice of the Whig party in 1840 upon William H. 
Harrison, though his competitor for the nomination was Henry 
Clay. Zachary Taylor was known only by his conduct of the 
Mexican War, when he was elected by the same party in 1848. 
The failure of General Grant as President in his first term, a 
failure which those who most heartily recognized his honour 
and patriotism could not deny, did not prevent his re-election 
in 1872 ; and the memory of his services came near to giving 
him a third nomination in 1880. 

More serious, however, than the absence of a war record, are 
charges of the second class — those impeaching the nominee's 
personal integrity. These no candidate need hope to escape. 
Pew men can have passed years in a State legislature or State 
or city office, or Congress, without coming into contact with 
disreputable persons, and occasionally finding themselves in 
situations capable of being misrepresented. They may have 
walked warily, they may not have swerved from the path of 
rectitude, but they must have been tempted to do so, and it 
requires no great invention to add details which give a bad 
look to the facts. As some men of note, from whom better 



CHAP, i.xxn ISSUES IN PRESIDENTIAL ELECTIONS 217 

tilings had been expected, have Lapsed, a lapse by a man of 
standing seems credible. It is therefore an easy task for the 
unscrupulous passions which a contest rouses to gather up 
rumours, piece out old though unproved stories of corruption, 
put the worst meaning on doubtful words, and so construct a 
damning impeachment, which will be read in party journals 
by many voters who never see the defence. The worst of this 
habit of universal invective is that the plain citizen, hearing 
much which he cannot believe, finding foul imputations brought 
even against those he has cause to respect, despairs of sifting 
the evidence, .and sets down most of the charges to malice and 
" campaign methods." while concluding that the residue is about 
equally true of all politicians alike. The distinction between 
good and bad men is for many voters practically effaced, and 
you have the spectacle of half the honest men supporting for 
the headship of the nation a person whom the other half 
declare to be a knave. Extravagant abuse produces a reaction, 
and makes the honest supporters of a candidate defend even 
his questionable acts. And thus the confidence of the country 
in the honour of its public men is lowered. 

Less frequent, but more offensive, are the charges made 
against the private life of a candidate, particularly in his 
relations with women. American opinion is highly sensitive 
on this subject. Nothing damages a man more than a reputa- 
tion for irregularity in these relations ; nothing therefore 
opens a more promising field to slander, and to the coarse 
vulgarity which is scarcely less odious, even if less mendacious, 
than slander itself. 

These are the chief heads of attack. But there is nothing 
in the life or habits of a candidate out of which materials 
for a reproach may not be drawn. Of one it is said that 
he is too fond of eating ; of another, that though he rents 

a pew in Dr. Y ? s church, he is more frequently seen in a 

Koman Catholic place of worship ; of a third, that he deserted 
his wife twenty-five years ago; of a fourth, that he is an atheist. 
His private conversations are reported; and when he denies 
the report, third persons are dragged in to refute his version. 
Nor does criticism stop with the candidate himself. His lead- 
ing supporters are arraigned and dissected. A man's surround- 
ings do no doubt throw some light upon him. If you are 



218 THE PARTY SYSTEM part hi 

shown into a library, you derive an impression from the books 
on the shelves and the pictures on the wall ; much more then 
may you be influenced by the character, if conspicuously good 
or evil, of a man's personal friends and political associates. 
But such methods of judging must be applied cautiously. 
American electioneering carries them beyond reasonable limits. 
I do not mean that elections always bring these personal 
issues prominently to the front. Sometimes, where the can- 
didates excite no strong enthusiasm or repulsion, they remain 
in the background. Their intrusion into what ought to be a 
contest of principles is unavoidable when the personal qualities 
of a candidate may affect the welfare of the country. But it 
has the unfortunate result of tending to draw attention away 
from political discussions, and thereby lessening what may be 
called the educational value of the campaign. A general elec- 
tion in England seems better calculated to instruct the masses 
of the people in the principles as well as the practical issues of 
politics, than the longer and generally hotter presidential contest 
in America. The average intelligence of the voter (excluding 
the negroes) is higher in America than in Britain, and his famil- 
iarity not only with the passwords and catchwords of politics, 
but with the structure of his own government, is much greater. 
But in Britain the contest is primarily one of programmes and 
not of persons. The leaders on each side are freely criticised, 
and most people are largely influenced by their judgment of 
the prime minister, and of the person who will become prime 
minister if the existing ministry be dismissed. Still the men 
are almost always overshadowed by the principles which they 
respectively advocate, and as invective and panegyric have 
already been poured for years, there is little inducement to 
rake up or invent tales against them. Controversy turns on 
the needs of the country, and on the measures which each 
party puts forward ; attacks on a ministry are levelled at their 
public acts instead of their private characters. Americans 
who watch general elections in England say that they find in 
the speeches of English candidates more appeal to reason and 
experience, more argument and less sentimental rhetoric, than 
in the discourses of their own campaign orators. To such a 
general judgment there are, of course, many exceptions. I 
have read American election speeches, such as those of Mr. 



ghap.lxxii ISSUES IN PRESIDENTIAL ELECTIONS 219 

Beecher, whose vigorous thinking was in the highest degree 
instructive as well as stimulative ; and the speaking of English 
candidates is probably, regarded as mere speaking, less effec- 
tive than that of the American stump. 

An examination of the causes which explain this difference 
belongs to another part of this book. Here I will only remark 
that the absence from British elections of flags, uniforms, 
torches, brass bands, parades, and all the other appliances em- 
ployed in America, for making the people "enthuse," leaves 
the held more free for rational discussion. Add to this that 
whereas the questions discussed on British platforms during 
the last fifty years have been mainly questions needing argu- 
ment, such as that of the corn laws in the typical popular 
struggle which Cobden and Bright and Villiers led, the most 
exciting theme for an American speaker during a whole gen- 
eration was one — the existence and extension of slavery — 
which specially called for emotional treatment. Such subjects 
as the regulation of the tariff, competing plans of liquor legis- 
lation, currency and labour questions, are so difficult to sift 
thoroughly before a popular audience that the orator has been 
tempted to evade them or to deal in sounding commonplaces. 
Latterly, however, the growing gravity of the problems which 
the customs tariff and the national currency present, has in- 
duced a noteworthy change ; and although these complex 
economic topics are often handled with little knowledge and in 
a declamatory way, it is a real gain that the popular mind 
should be constantly directed to them. 

If the presidential contest may seem to do less for the forma- 
tion of political thought and diffusion of political knowledge 
than was to be expected from the immense efforts put forth and 
the intelligence of the voters addressed, it nevertheless rouses 
and stirs the public life of the country. One can hardly imag- 
ine what the atmosphere of American politics would be without 
this quadrennial storm sweeping through it to clear away stag- 
nant vapours, and recall to every citizen the sense of his own 
responsibility for the present welfare and future greatness of 
his country. Nowhere does government by the people, through 
the people, for the people, take a more directly impressive and 
powerfully stimulative form than in the choice of a chief mag- 
istrate by thirteen millions of citizens voting on one day. 



CHAPTEK LXXIII 

FURTHER OBSERVATIONS ON NOMINATIONS AND ELECTIONS 

Several questions may have occurred to the European reader 
who has followed the foregoing account of presidential nomina- 
tions and elections. 

The most obvious is — How comes it that a system of nomi- 
nation by huge party assemblies has grown up so unlike any- 
thing which the free countries of Europe have seen ? 

The nominating convention is the natural and legitimate out- 
growth of two features of the Constitution, the restricted func- 
tions of Congress and the absolute sovereignty of the people. 
It was soon perceived that under the rule of party, a party 
must be united on its candidate in order to have a prospect of 
success. There was therefore need for a method of selecting 
the candidate which the whole of a party would recognize as 
fair and entitled to respect. At first the representatives of the 
party in Congress assumed the right of nomination. But it was 
presently felt that they were not entitled to it, for they had 
not been chosen for any such purpose, and the President was 
not constitutionally responsible to them, but rather set up to 
check them. When the congressional caucus had been discred- 
ited, the State legislatures tried their hands at nominations ; 
but acting irregularly, and with a primary regard to local senti- 
ment, they failed to win obedience. It began to be seen that 
whom the people were to elect the people must also nominate. 
Thus presently the tumultuous assemblies of active politicians 
were developed into regular representative bodies, modelled 
after Congress, and giving to the party in each State exactly 
the same weight in nominating as the State possessed in voting. 
The elaborate nominating scheme of primaries and conventions 
which was being constructed for the purpose of city, State, and 
congressional elections, was applied to the election of the Presi- 
220 



ch.um.xxiii NOMINATIONS AND ELECTIONS '-'21 

dent, and the national convention was the result. We may call 
it an effort of nature to till the void left in America by the ab- 
sence of the European parliamentary or cabinet system, under 
which an executive is called into being out of the legislature 
by the majority o\' the legislature. In the European system no 
single act of nomination is necessary, because the leader of the 
majority comes gradually to the top in virtue of his own 
strength. 1 In America there must be a single and formal act: 
and this act must emanate from the people, since it is to them 
that the party leader, when he becomes chief magistrate, will 
be responsible. There is not quite so strong a reason for en- 
trusting to the convention the function of declaring the aims 
and tenets of the party in its platform, for this might properly 
be done by a caucus of the legislature. But as the President 
is. through his veto power, an independent branch of the legis- 
lature, the moment of nominating him is apt for a declaration 
of the doctrines whereof the party makes him the standard- 
bearer. 

What have been the effects upon the public life of the 
country of this practice of nomination by conventions ? Out of 
several I select two. Politics have turned largely upon the 
claims of rival personalities. The victory of a party in a presi- 
dential election depends upon its being unanimous in its support 
of a particular candidate. It must therefore use every effort to 
find, not necessarily the best man, but the man who will best 
unite it. In the pursuit of him, it is distracted from its con- 
sideration of the questions on which it ought to appeal to the 
country, and may form its views on them hastily or loosely. 
The convention is the only body authorized to declare the tenets 
and practical programme of the party. But the duty of declar- 
ing them is commonly overshadowed by the other duty of 
choosing the candidate, which naturally excites warmer feelings 
in the hearts of actual or potential office-holders. Accordingly, 

1 The nearest parallel to the American nominating system is the selection 
of their leader by the Opposition in the House of Commons, of which there has 
been only one instance, the choice of Lord Hartington by the Liberal members 
in that House in 1875; and on that occasion the other candidates withdrew 
before a vote was needed. The selection of a prime minister is the act of the 
Crown. If he sits in the House of Commons, he naturally leads it ; if in the 
other house, he chooses one of his colleagues to lead in the Commons. "What 
the Americans call "House caucuses," i.e. meetings of a party in the larger 
House of the legislature, are not uncommon in England. 



222 THE PARTY SYSTEM part hi 

delegates are chosen by local conventions rather as the partisans 
of this or that aspirant than as persons of political ability or 
moral weight; and the function of formulating the views of 
the party may be left to, and ill discharged by, men of an 
inferior type. 

A further result will have been foreseen by those who have 
realized what these conventions are like. They are monster 
meetings. Besides the nine hundred delegates, there are some 
ten to fourteen thousand spectators on the floor and in the gal- 
leries, while at Chicago in 1860, there were also thousands on 
the roof. It goes without saying that such a meeting is capable 
neither of discussing political questions and settling a political 
programme, nor of deliberately weighing the merits of rival 
aspirants for the nomination. Its platform must be presented 
to it cut and dry, and this is the work of a small committee. 
In choosing a candidate, it must follow a few leaders. 1 And 
what sort of leaders do conventions tend to produce ? Two 
sorts — the intriguer and the declaimer. There is the man who 
manipulates delegates and devises skilful combinations. There 
is also the orator, whose physical gifts, courage, and readiness 
enable him to browbeat antagonists, overawe the chairman, 
and perhaps, if he be possessed of eloquence, carry the multi- 
tude away in a fit of enthusiasm. For men of wisdom and 
knowledge, not seconded by a commanding voice and presence, 
there is no demand, and little chance of usefulness, in these 
tempestuous halls. 

Why, however, it may also be asked, should conventions be 
so pre-eminently tempestuous, considering that they are not 
casual concourses, but consist of persons duly elected, and are 
governed by a regular code of procedure ? The reason may be 
found in the fact that in them are united the two conditions 
which generate excitement, viz., very large numbers, and im- 
portant issues to be determined. In no other modern assemblies 2 

1 Hamilton had acutely remarked in 1788 that the larger an assembly, the 
greater is the power of a few in it. See Vol. I. p. 195. 

2 In the ancient world the assemblies of great democratic cities like Athens 
or Syracuse presented both these conditions; they had large numbers present, 
and almost unlimited powers. But they were at any rate permanent bodies, 
accustomed to meet frequently, composed of men who knew one another, who 
respected certain leaders, and applauded the same orators. The American 
convention consists of men who come together once only in their lives, and 
then for a week or less. 



OHAP.LZxm NOMINATIONS AND ELECTIONS 223 

do these conditions concur. Modern deliberative assemblies are 

comparatively small — the House of Representatives has only 
366 members; the French Chamber 584; while in the British 
House of Commons there is sitting space for only 400. Large 
popular gatherings, on the other hand, such as mass meetings, are 
excitable in virtue of their size, but have nothing to do but pass 
resolutions, and there is seldom controversy over these, because 
such meetings are attended only by those who agree with the 
summoners. But a national convention consists of more than 
eight hundred delegates, as many alternates, and some twelve 
thousand spectators. It is the hugest mass meeting the world 
knows of. Not only, therefore, does the sympathy of numbers 
exert an unequalled force, but this host, larger than the army 
with which the Greeks conquered at Marathon, has an issue of 
the highest and most exciting nature to decide, an issue which 
quickens the pulse even of those who read in cold blood after- 
wards how the votes fell as the roll of States was called, and 
which thrills those who see and listen, and, most of all, those 
who are themselves concerned as delegates, with an intensity of 
emotion surpassing, in proportion to the magnitude of the issue, 
that which attends the finish of a well-contested boat race. If 
you wish to realize the passionate eagerness of an American 
convention, take the House of Commons or the French Chamber, 
during a division which is to decide the fate of a ministry and a 
policy, and raising the numbers present twenty -fold, imagine the 
excitement twenty-fold hotter. Wanting those wonderful scenes 
which a great debate and division in Parliament provide the 
English with, America has evolved others not less dramatic. 
The contrast between the two countries is perhaps most marked 
in this, that in Parliament the strife is between two parties, in 
an American convention between the adherents of different 
leaders belonging to the same party. We might have expected 
that in the more democratic country more would turn upon 
principles, less upon men. It is exactly the other way. The 
struggle in a convention is over men, not over principles. 

These considerations may serve to explain to a European the 
strange phenomena of a convention. But his inquiry probably 
extends itself to the electoral campaign which follows. " Why," 
he asks, "is the contest so much longer, more strenuous, and 
more absorbing than the congressional elections, or than any 



224 THE PARTY SYSTEM part hi 

election struggle in Europe, although Europe is agitated by 
graver problems than now occupy America ? And why does a 
people externally so cool, self-contained, and unimpulsive as 
the American work itself up into a fever of enthusiasm over an 
issue of little permanent importance between two men, neither 
of whom will do much good or can do much harm ? " 

The length of the contest is a survival. The Americans 
themselves regret it, for it sadly interrupts both business and 
pleasure. It is due to the fact that when communication was 
difficult over a rough and thinly settled country, several months 
were needed to enable the candidates and their orators to go 
round. Now railways and telegraphs have drawn the continent 
so much together that five or six weeks would be sufficient. 
That the presidential election is fought more vehemently than 
congressional elections seems due to its coming only half as 
often ; to the fact that the President is the dispenser of Federal 
patronage, and to the habit formed in days when the President 
was the real head of the party, and his action in foreign affairs 
was important, of looking on his election as the great trial of 
party strength. Besides, it is the choice of one officer by the 
whole country, a supreme political act in which every voter has 
a share, and the same share ; an act which fills the whole of the 
party in all of the States with the sense that it is feeling and 
thinking and willing as one heart and mind. This simultaneity 
of effort, this concentration of interest upon one person and one 
polling day, gives to the struggle a sort of tension not to be 
looked for where a number of elections of different persons are 
going on in as many different spots, nor always at the same 
time. In congressional elections each constituency has to think 
first of itself and its own candidate. In the presidential elec- 
tions all eyes are fixed on the same figure ; the same personal 
as well as political issue is presented to the nation. Each 
polling district in a State, each State in the Union, emu- 
lates every other in the efforts it puts forth to carry the party 
ticket. 

To explain why the hard-headed self-possessed Americans go 
so wild with excitement at election times is a more difficult 
task. See what the facts are: There has not been a single 
presidential candidate, since Abraham Lincoln's re-election in 
1864 (always excepting General Grant), of whom his friends 



0HAP.LXX1D NOMINATIONS AND ELECTIONS 225 

could Bay that he had done anything to command the gratitude 
of the nation. Some o\' these candidates had been skilful party 
leaders, others had served with credit in the Civil War. None 
could be ('ailed distinguished in the sense in which, I will not 
Bay, Hamilton. Jefferson, -Marshall, Webster, but J. Q. Adams, 
(.day. Benton, Calhoun. Seward, Stanton, and Chase, were dis- 
tinguished men. However, let us take Mr. Blaine and Mr. 
Cleveland in the election of 1884. One had been Speaker of 
the House, and was unquestionably a skilful debater in Con- 
gress, an effective speaker on a platform, a man socially 
attractive, never forgetting a face or a service. The other 
had made a shrewd, upright and courageous Mayor of Buffalo 
and Governor of New York State. Compare the services ren- 
dered to the country by them, or by any other candidate of 
recent times, with those of Mazzini, Garibaldi, Cavour, and 
Victor Emmanuel to Italy, of Bismarck and Moltke to Ger- 
many, even of Thiers and Gambetta to France in her hour of 
peril. Yet the enthusiasm shown for Mr. Blaine (who seems 
to have drawn out the precious fluid at a higher temperature 
than his rival), the demonstrations made in his honour wher- 
ever he appeared, equalled anything done, in their several 
countries, for these heroes of Italy, Germany, or France. As 
for England, where two great political leaders, towering far 
above their fellows, excited during many years the warmest 
admiration and the bitterest dislike from friends and foes, 
imagine eight hundred English barristers turning out from 
the Temple and Lincoln's Inn to walk in slow procession from 
London Bridge to South Kensington, shouting themselves 
hoarse for Gladstone or Disraeli ! 

In attempting an explanation, I will take the bull by the 
horns, and ask whether the world is right in deeming the 
Americans a cool and sober people ? The American is shrewd 
and keen, his passion seldom obscures his reason; he keeps his 
head in moments when a Frenchman, or an Italian, or even a 
German, would lose it. Yet he is also of an excitable temper, 
with emotions capable of being quickly and strongly stirred. 
That there is no contradiction between these qualities appears 
from the case of the Scotch, who are both more logical and 
more cautious in affairs than the English, but are also more 
enthusiastic, more apt to be swept away by a passionate move- 
vol. u Q 



226 THE PARTY SYSTEM part hi 

ment. 1 Moreover, the Americans like excitement. They like it 
for its own sake, and go wherever they can find it. They sur- 
render themselves to the enjoyment of this pleasure the more 
willingly because it is comparatively rare, and relieves the level 
tenor of their ordinary life. Add to this the further delight 
which they find in any form of competition. The passion which 
in England expresses itself in the popular eagerness over a boat 
race or a horse race, extends more widely in America to every 
kind of rivalry and struggle. The presidential election, in which 
two men are pitted against one another over a four months' 
course for the great prize of politics, stirs them like any other 
trial of strength and speed; sets them betting on the issue, 
disposes them to make efforts for a cause in which their deeper 
feelings may be. little engaged. 

These tendencies are intensified by the vast area over which 
the contest extends, and the enormous multitude that bears a 
part in it. The American imagination is peculiarly sensitive to 
the impression of great size. " A big thing " is their habitual 
phrase of admiration. In Europe, antiquity is what chiefly com- 
mands the respect of some minds, novelty what rouses the in- 
terest of others. Beyond the Atlantic, the sense of immensity, 
the sense that the same thought and purpose are animating 
millions of other men in sympathy with himself, lifts a man 
out of himself, and sends him into transports of eagerness and 
zeal about things intrinsically small, but great through the 
volume of human feeling they have attracted. It is not the 
profundity of an idea or emotion, but its lateral extension 
which most quickly touches the American imagination. For 
one man who can feel the former, a hundred are struck by the 
latter ; and he who describes America must remember that he 
has always to think first of the masses. 

These considerations may help to explain the disproportion 
that strikes a European between the merits of the presidential 
candidate and the blazing enthusiasm which he evokes. It is 
not really given to him as an individual, it is given to the party 
personified in him, because he bears its banner, and its fervour 

1 Sir Walter Scott remarks of Edinburgh early in the eighteenth century, 
that its mob was one of the fiercest in Europe. The history of the Covenant 
from 1G38 downwards is full of episodes which indicate how much more 
excitable is Scotch than English blood. 



chap. i. win NOMINATIONS AND ELECTIONS 227 

is due, not even so much to party passion as to the impres- 
sionist character of the people, who desire to be excited, desire 
to demonstrate, desire, as English undergraduates say, "to run 
with the boats." and cheer the efforts of the rowers. As regards 
the details of the demonstrations, the parades and receptions, 
the badges and brass bands and triumphal arches, any one can 
understand why the masses. of the people — those who in Europe 
would be railed the lower middle and working classes — should 
relish these things, which break the monotony of their lives, 
and give them a sense of personal participation in a great 
movement. Even in London, least externally picturesque 
among European cities, when the working men turn out for 
a Hyde Park meeting they come marshalled in companies 
under the banners of their trade unions or other societies, 
carrying devices, and preceded by music. They make a some- 
what scrubby show, for England does not know how to light 
up the dulness of her skies and streets by colour in costume 
or variety in design. But the taste for display is there as it is 
in human nature everywhere. In England, the upper class is 
shy of joining in any such " functions,'' even when they have 
a religious tinge. Its fastidiousness and sense of class dignity 
are offended. But in America, the sentiment of equality is so 
pervading that the rich and cultivated do not think of scorn- 
ing the popular procession ; or if some do feel such scorn, they 
are careful to conceal it. The habit of demonstrating with 
bands and banners and emblems was formed in days when the 
upper class was very small, and would not have dreamt of 
standing aloof from anything which interested the crowd; 
and now, when the rich and cultivated have grown to be as 
numerous, and, in most respects, as fastidious as the parallel 
class in Europe, the habit is too deeply rooted to be shaken. 
Xobody thinks of sneering. To do as the people do is a tribute 
to the people's majesty. And the thousand lawyers who 
shout " James G-. Blaine, O-h-i-o," as they march through the 
October mud of Broadway, have no more sense that they 
are making themselves ridiculous than the European noble 
who backs with repeated obeisances out of the presence of 
his sovereign. 



CHAPTER LXXIV 

TYPES OF AMERICAN STATESMEN 

As trees are known by their fruits, and as different systems 
of government evidently tend to produce different types of 
statesmanship, it is pertinent to our examination of the Ameri- 
can party system to inquire what are the kinds of statesmen 
which it engenders and ripens to maturity. A democracy, 
more perhaps than any other form of government, needs great 
men to lead and inspire the people. The excellence, therefore, 
of the methods democracy employs may fairly enough be tested 
by the excellence of the statesmen whom these methods call 
forth. Europeans are wont to go farther, and reason from the 
character of the statesmen to the character of the people, a 
convenient process, because it seems easier to know the careers 
and judge the merits of persons than of nations, yet one not 
universally applicable. In the free countries of Europe, the 
men who take the lead in public affairs may be deemed fair 
specimens of its best talent and character, and fair types, pos- 
sibly of the virtues of the nation, though the temptations of 
politics are great, certainly of its practical gifts. But in two 
sorts of countries one cannot so reason from the statesmen to 
the masses. In despotic monarchies the minister is often 
merely the king's favourite, who has risen by unworthy arts, 
or, at any rate, not by merit. And in a democracy where birth 
and education give a man little advantage in the race, a politi- 
cal career may have become so unattractive as compared with 
other pursuits that the finest or most ambitious spirits do not 
strive for its prizes, but generally leave them to men of the 
second order. 

This second case is, as we have seen, to some extent the case of 
America. We must not therefore take her statesmen as types 
of the highest or strongest American manhood. The national 



chap, i.xxiv TYPES OF AMKKICAN STATESMEN 229 

qualities come out fully in them, but not always In their best 
form. 1 speak of the generations that have grown up since the 
great men of the Kevolution epoch (tied off. Some of those 
men were the peers of the best European statesmen of the time: 
one of them rises in moral dignity above all his European con- 
temporaries. The generation to which J. Q. Adams, Jackson, 
Webster, Clay. Calhoun, and Benton belonged is less impres- 
sive, perhaps because they failed to solve a question which 
may have been too hard for any one to solve. Yet the men I 
have mentioned were striking personalities who would have 
made a figure in any country. Few of the statesmen of the 
third or Civil War period enjoyed more than a local reputation 
when it began, but in its course several of them developed re- 
markable powers, and one became a national hero. The fourth 
generation is now upon the stage. The Americans confess that 
not many who belong to it have as yet won fame. The times, 
they remark, are comparatively quiet. What is wanted is not 
so much an impassioned popular leader or a great philosophic 
legislator as men who will administer the affairs of the nation 
with skill and rectitude, and who, fortified by careful study 
and observation, will grapple with the economic problems 
which the growth of the country makes urgent. I admit this, 
but think that much must also be ascribed to the character of 
the party system which, as we have seen, is unfavourable to 
the development of the finest gifts. Let us note w r hat are the 
types which that system displays to us. 

In such countries as England, France, Germany, and Italy 
there is room and need for five sorts of statesmen. Men are 
wanted for the management of foreign and colonial policy, men 
combining the talents of a diplomatist with a wide outlook over 
the world's horizon. The needs of social and economic reform, 
grave in old countries with the mistakes of the past to undo, 
require a second kind of statesman with an aptitude for con- 
structive legislation. Thirdly there is the administrator who 
can manage a department with diligence and skill and economy. 
Fourthly comes the parliamentary tactician, whose function it 
is to understand men, w r ho frames cabinets and is dexterous in 
humouring or spurring a representative assembly. 1 Lastly we 

1 Englishmen will think of the men who framed the new Poor Law as 
specimens of the second class, of Sir G. C. Lewis as a specimen of the third, of 



230 THE PARTY SYSTEM part in 

have the leader of the masses, who, whether or no he be a 
skilful parliamentarian, thinks rather of the country than of the 
chamber, knows how to watch and rouse the feelings of the 
multitude, and rally a great party to the standard which he 
bears aloft. The first of these has no need for eloquence ; the 
second and third can get on without it: to the fourth it is 
almost, yet not absolutely, essential ; it is the life breath of 
the fifth. 1 

Let us turn to America. In America there are few occasions 
for the first sort of statesman, while the conditions of a Federal 
government, with its limited legislative sphere, are unfavourable 
to the second, as frequently changing cabinets are to the third. 
It is chiefly for persons of the fourth and fifth classes we must 
look. Persons of those classes we shall find, but in a different 
shape and guise from what they would assume in Europe. 
American politics seem at this moment to tend to the produc- 
tion of two types, the one of whom may be called par excellence 
the man of the desk or of the legislature, the other the man of 
the convention and the stump. They resemble the fourth and 
fifth of our European types, but with instructive differences. 

The first of these types is usually a shrewd, cool, hard-headed 
man of business. He is such a man as one would find success- 
ful in the law or in commerce if he had applied his faculties 
to those vocations. He has mostly been, is often still, a prac- 
tising counsel and attorney. He may lack imagination and 
width of view ; but he has a tight grip of facts, a keen insight 
into men, and probably also tact in dealing with them. That 
he has come to the front shows him to possess a resolute and 
tenacious will, for without it he must have been trodden down 
in the fierce competition of a political career. His indepen- 
dence is limited by the necessity of keeping step with his party, 
for isolated action counts for little in America, but the tendency 
to go with one's party is so inbred there that a man feels less 
humiliated by waiving his private views than would be the case 
in Europe. Such compliance does not argue want of strength. 
As to what is called " culture," he has often at least a suscepti- 

Lord Palmerston as a specimen of the fourth. The aptitudes of the third and 
fourth were united in Sir Robert Peel. 

1 It need hardly he said that the characteristic attributes of these several 
types are often found united in the same person ; indeed no one can rise high 
who does not combine at least two of the four latter. 



chap, lxxiy TYPES 01 AMERICAN STATESMEN 28] 

bility to it. with a wish to acquire it which, if he has risen from 
humble beginnings, may contrast oddly with the superficial 

roughness of his manner. He is a ready and effective rather 
than a. polished speaker, and is least agreeable when, forsaking 
the solid ground of his legal or administrative knowledge, he 
attempts the higher flights of eloquence. 

Such a man does not necessarily make his first reputation in 
an assembly. He may begin as governor of a State or mayor 
of a large city, and if he earns a reputation there, can make 
pretty sure of going on to Congress if he desires it. In any 
case, it is in administration and the legislative work which 
deals with administration that he wins his spurs. The sphere 
of local government is especially fitted to develop such talents, 
and to form that peculiar quality I have been trying to describe. 
It makes able men of affairs ; men fit for the kind of work 
which needs the combination of a sound business head and the 
power of working along with others. One may go further and 
say. that this talent is the sort of talent which during the last 
half-century has been most characteristic of the American 
people. Their greatest achievements have lain in the internal 
development of their country by administrative shrewdness, 
ingenuity, promptitude, and an unequalled dexterity in applying 
the principle of association, whether by means of private cor- 
porations or of local public or quasi-public organisms. These 
national characteristics reappear in Federal politics, not always 
accompanied by the largeness of vision and mastery of the politi- 
cal and economic sciences which that wider sphere demands. 

The type I describe is less brilliant than those modern 
Europe has learned to admire in men like Bismarck or Cavour, 
perhaps one may add, Tisza or Minghetti or Castelar. But 
then the conditions required for the rise of the last-named 
men do not exist in America, nor is her need for them pressing. 
America would have all she wants if such statesmen as I have 
described were more numerous ; and if a philosophic mind, 
capable of taking in the whole phenomena of transatlantic 
society, and propounding comprehensive solutions for its prob- 
lems, were more common among the best of them. Persons of 
this type have hitherto been most frequently found in the 
Senate, to which they usually rise from the House of Repre- 
sentatives or from a State legislature. They are very useful 



232 THE PARTY SYSTEM part in 

there j indeed, it is they who gained for it that authority which 
it long enjoyed but is now fast losing. 

The other kind of statesman is the product of two factors 
which give to American politics their peculiar character, viz., 
an enormous multitude of voting citizens, and the existence of 
a wonderful network of party organizations for the purpose of 
selecting and carrying candidates for office. To move the 
masses, a man must have the gifts of oratory ; to rule party 
committees, he must be a master of intrigue. The stump and 
the committee-room are his sphere. There is a great deal of 
campaign speaking to be done at State elections, at congres- 
sional elections, above all, in presidential campaigns. It does 
not flow in such a perennial torrent as in England, for England 
has since 1876 become the most speech-flooded country in the 
world, but it is more copious than in France, Italy, or Germany. 
The audiences are less ignorant than those of Europe, but their 
critical standard is not higher ; and whereas in England it is 
Parliament that forms most speakers and creates the type of 
political oratory, Congress renders no such service to America. 
There is, therefore, I think, less presumption in America than 
in Europe that the politician who makes his way by oratory is 
a man either of real eloquence or of vigorous thinking power. 
Able, however, he must be. He is sure to have fluency, a power 
of touching either the emotions or the imagination, a command 
of sonorous rhetoric. Probably he has also humour and a turn 
for quick retort. In fact, he must have the arts — we all know 
what they are — which please the multitude ; arts not blamable 
in themselves, but needing to be corrected by occasional appear- 
ances before a critical audience. These arts joined to a power- 
ful voice and a forcible personality will carry a man far. If 
he can join to them a ready and winning address, a geniality of 
manner if not of heart, he becomes what is called magnetic. 
Xow, magnetism is among the highest qualities which an 
American popular leader can possess. Its presence may bring 
him to the top. Its absence may prevent him from getting there. 
It makes friends for him wherever he goes. It immensely en- 
hances his powers in the region of backstairs politics. 

For besides the visible work on the stump, there is the in- 
visible work of the committee-room, or rather of the inner con- 
clave, whose resolves are afterwards registered in the committee, 



chap, lxxiy TYPES OF AMERICAN STATESMEN 288 

to be still later laid before the convention. The same talent for 
intrigue which in monarchies or oligarchies is spent within the 
limits of a court or a knot of ruling families, here occupies itself 
with bosses and rings and leaders of political groups. To ma- 
nipulate these men and groups, to know their weaknesses, their 
ambitions, their jealousies, to play upon their hopes and fears, 
attaching some by promises, entrapping others through their 
vanity, browbeating others into submission, forming combina- 
tions in which each partisan's interest is so bound up with that 
of the aspiring statesman that he is sure to stand faithfully by 
his chief — all this goes a long way to secure advancement 
under the party system. 

It may be thought that between such aptitudes and the 
power of effective speech there is no necessary connection. 
There are intriguers who are nothing but intriguers, of small 
account on the stump or on the platform of a convention : and 
such a man does occasionally rise to national prominence. 
First he gains command of his own State by a dexterous use 
of patronage ; then he wins influence in Federal politics by 
being able to dispose of his State vote in Federal elections ; 
finally he forces his way into the Senate, and possibly even 
aspires to the presidential chair, deluded by his own advance- 
ment, and by the applause of professionals who find in success 
sufficient evidence of worthiness. Eecent instances of such 
careers are not wanting. But they are exceptions due to the 
special conditions of exceptionally demoralized States. Speak- 
ing generally, oratory is essential to distinction. Fluent ora- 
tory, however, as distinguished from eloquence, is an art which 
most able men can acquire with practice. In popularly gov- 
erned countries it is as common as it is worthless. And a 
link between the platform and the committee-room is found in 
the quality of magnetism. The magnetic man attracts indi- 
viduals just as he captivates masses. Where oratory does not 
need either knowledge or reflection, because the people are 
not intent upon great questions, or because the parties evade 
them, where power of voice and skill in words, and ready 
sympathy with the feelings and prejudices of the crowd, are 
enough to command the ear of monster meetings, there the 
successful speaker will pass for a statesman. He will seem a 
fit man to put forward for high office, if he can but persuade 



234 THE PARTY SYSTEM part hi 

the managers to run him ; and therefore the other side of his 
activity is spent among and upon the managers. 

It sometimes happens that the owner of these gifts is also a 
shrewd, keen, practical man, so that the first type is blended 
with the second. Nor is there anything to prevent the popular 
speaker and skilled intriguer from also possessing the higher 
attributes of statesmanship. This generation has seen the con- 
junction both in America and in France. But the conjunction 
is rare ; not only because these last-named attributes are them- 
selves rare, but because the practice of party intrigue is unfa- 
vourable to their development. It narrows a man's mind and 
distorts his vision. His eye, accustomed to the obscurity of 
committee-rooms, cannot range over the wide landscape of 
national questions. Habits of argument formed on the stump 
seldom fit a man to guide a legislature. In none of the greatest 
public men that have adorned America do we discern the feat- 
ures of the type just sketched. Hamilton was no intriguer, 
though he once executed a brilliant piece of strategy. 1 Neither 
was Clay or Webster. Jefferson, who added an eminent talent 
for party organization and management to his powers as a 
thinker and writer, was no speaker ; and one might go through 
the whole list without finding a man of the first order in whom 
the art of handling committees and nominating conventions was 
developed to that pitch of excellence which it has now reached 
in the hands of far inferior men. National conventions offer 
the best field for the display of the peculiar kind of talent 
which this type of statesman exhibits. To rouse eight hundred 
delegates and ten thousand spectators needs powerful lungs, a 
striking presence, address, and courage. A man capable enough 
in Congress may fail in this arena. But less than half the work 
of a convention is done on the public stage. Delegates have 
to be seen in private, combinations arranged, mines laid and 
those of the opponent discovered and countermined, a distribu- 
tion of the good things in the gift of the party settled with 
swarms of hungry aspirants. Easy manners, tact, and supple- 
ness, a reputation for remembering and requiting good turns 
and ill turns — in fact, many of the qualities which make a 

1 In agreeing that the national capital should be placed in the South in 
return for the support of two Southern men to his plan for the settlement of 
the public debt. 



chap, lxxiv TYPES OF AMERICAN STATESMEN 286 

courtier — are the qualities which the intrigues of a convention 
require, develop, and perfect. 

Besides such causes inherent in the present party system as 
check the growth of first-class statesmen in America, there are 
two springing from her constitutional arrangements which must 
not be forgotten. One is the disconnection of Congress from 
the executive. How this works to prevent true leadership has 
been already explained. 1 Another is the existence of States, 
each of which has a political life and distinct party organization 
of its own. Men often rise to eminence in a State without 
making their mark in national politics. They may become 
virtual masters of the State either in a legitimate way by good 
service to it or in an illegitimate way as its bosses. In either 
case they have to be reckoned with when a presidential election 
comes round, and are able, if the State be a doubtful one, to 
dictate their terms. Thus they push their way to the front 
without having ever shown the qualities needed for guiding 
the nation ; they crowd out better men, and they make party 
leadership and management even more of a game than the 
spoils system and the convention system have tended to make 
it. The State vote comes to be in national politics what 
the ward vote is in city politics, a commodity which a boss or 
ring can dispose of ; the power of a man who can influence it 
is greater than his personal merits entitle him to; and the 
kind of skill which can make friends of these State bosses and 
bring them into a " pool " or working combination becomes 
valuable, if not essential, to a national party leader. In fact, 
the condition of things is not wholly unlike that of England 
in the middle of last century, when a great borough-monger 
like the Duke of Newcastle was a power in the country, who 
must be not only consulted and propitiated at every crisis, but 
even admitted to a ministry if it was to secure a parliamentary 
majority. When a crisis rouses the nation, the power of these 
organization-mongers or vote-owners vanishes, just as that of 
the English borough-owning magnate was checked on like 
occasions, because it is only when the people of a State are 
listless that their Boss is potent. Unable to oppose a real 
wish of the masses, he can use their vote only by professing 

i See Chapters XXI., XXV., and XXVI. in Vol. I. 



236 THE PARTY SYSTEM part hi 

obedience while guiding it in the direction of the men or the 
schemes he favours. 

This remark suggests another. We have noted that among 
statesmen of the former of the two types described, there always 
exist ability and integrity sufficient for carrying on the regular 
business of the country. Men with those still higher gifts 
which European nations look for in their prime ministers 
(though they do not always find them) have of late years 
been rare. The Americans admit the fact, but explain it by 
arguing that there has been no crisis needing those gifts. 
Whether this is true may be doubted. Men of constructive 
statesmanship were surely needed in the period after the Civil 
War: and it is possible that a higher statesmanship might 
have averted the war itself. The Americans, however, main- 
tain that when the hour comes, it brings the man. It brought 
Abraham Lincoln. When he was nominated by the famous 
convention of 1860, his name was not widely known beyond his 
own State. But he rose at once to the level of the situation, 
and that not merely by virtue of strong clear sense, but by his 
patriotic steadfastness and noble simplicity of character. If 
this was luck, it was just the kind of luck which makes a nation 
hopeful of its future, and inclined to overlook the faults of the 
methods by which it finds its leaders. 



CHAPTER LXXV 

WHAT THE PEOPLE THINK OF IT 

The European reader who has followed thus far the descrip- 
tion I have endeavoured to give of the working of party- 
politics, of the nominating machine, of the spoils system, of 
elections and their methods, of venality in some legislative 
and municipal bodies, may have been struck by its dark lines. 
He sees in this new country evils which savour of Old World 
corruption, even of Old World despotism. He is reminded 
sometimes of England under Sir Eobert Walpole, sometimes 
of Russia under the Czar Nicholas. Assuming, as a European 
is apt to do, that the working of political machinery fairly 
reflects the temper, ideas, and moral standard of the govern- 
ing class, and knowing that America is governed by the whole 
people, he may form a low opinion of the people. Perhaps 
he leaps to the conclusion that they are corrupt. Perhaps he 
more cautiously infers that they are heedless. Perhaps he 
conceives that the better men despair of politics and wash 
their hands of it, while the mass, besotted with a self-confidence 
born of their rapid material progress, are blind to the conse- 
quences which the degradation of public life must involve. 
All these judgments one may hear pronounced by persons who 
have visited America, and of course more confidently by persons 
who have not. It is at any rate a plausible view that what- 
ever public opinion there may be in America upon religion, or 
morality, or literature, there can be little about politics, and 
that the leading minds, which in all countries shape and 
direct opinion, have in America abdicated that function, 
and left the politicians to go their own way. 

Such impressions are far from the truth. In no country i> 
public opinion stronger or more active than in the United 
States ; in none has it the field so completely to itself, be- 



238 THE PARTY SYSTEM 



cause aristocracies like those of Europe do not exist, and 
because the legislative bodies are relatively less powerful 
and less independent. It may seem a paradox to add that 
public opinion is on the whole wholesome and upright. Never- 
theless, this also is true. 

Here we are brought face to face with the cardinal problem 
of American politics. Where political life is all-pervading, 
can practical politics be on a lower level than public opinion ? 
How can a free people which tolerates gross evils be a pure 
people ? To explain this is the hardest task which one who 
describes the United States sees confronting him. Experience 
has taught me, as it teaches every traveller who seeks to 
justify when he returns to Europe his faith in the American 
people, that it is impossible to get Englishmen at any rate to 
realize the coexistence of phenomena so unlike those of their 
own country, and to draw the inferences which those phenom- 
ena suggest to one who has seen them with his own eyes. 
Most English admirers of popular government, when pressed 
with the facts, deny them. But I have already admitted them. 

To present a just picture of American public opinion one 
must cut deeper than the last few chapters have done, and try 
to explain the character and conditions of opinion itself beyond 
the Atlantic, the mental habits from which it springs, the 
organs through which it speaks. This is what I propose to do 
in the chapters which follow. Meanwhile it is well to com- 
plete the survey of the actualities of party politics by stating 
in a purely positive, or, as the Germans say, "objective," way, 
what the Americans think about the various features of their 
system portrayed in these last chapters, about Spoils and the 
Machine, about corruption and election frauds. I omit attempts 
at explanation ; I simply sum up the bare facts of the case as 
they strike one who listens to conversation and reads the 
newspapers. 

Corruption. — Most of it the people, by which I mean not 
the masses but all classes of the people, do not see. The pro- 
ceedings of Congress excite less interest than those of legisla- 
tive chambers do in France or England. Venality occurs 
chiefly in connection with private legislation, and even in 
Washington very little is known about this, the rather as com- 
mittees deliberate with closed doors. Almost the only persons 



tiiuMxw WHAT THE PEOPLE THINK OF IT 239 

who possess authentic Information as to what goes on in the 

Capitol are railroad men, land speculators, and manufacturers 
who have had to lobby in connection with the tariff. The 
same remark applies, though less forcibly, to the venality of 
certain State legislatures. A farmer of Western New York 
may go through a long life without knowing how his rep- 
resentative behaves at Albany. Albany is not within his 
horizon. 1 

The people see little and they believe less. True, the party 
newspapers accuse their opponents, but the newspapers are 
always reviling somebody; and it is because the words are so 
strong that the tale has little meaning. For instance, in a 
recent presidential contest charges affecting the honour of one 
of the candidates were brought against him by journals sup- 
porting the other candidate, and evidence tendered in support 
of them. The immense majority of his supporters did not 
believe these charges. They read their own newspapers chiefly, 
which pooh-poohed the charges. They could not be at the 
trouble of sifting the evidence, against which their own news- 
papers offered counter arguments, so they quietly ignored 
them. I do not say that they disbelieved. Between belief 
and disbelief there is an intermediate state of mind. 

The habit of hearing charges promiscuously bandied to and 
fro, but seldom probed to the bottom, makes men heedless. 
So does the fact that prosecutions frequently break down even 
where there can be little doubt as to the guilt of the accused. 
A general impression is produced that things are not as they 
should be, yet the line between honest men and dishonest men 
is not sharply drawn, because those who are probably honest 
are attacked, and those who are almost certainly dishonest 
escape punishment. The state of mind of the average citizen 
is a state rather of lassitude than of callousness. He comes 
to think that politicians have a morality of their own, and 
must be judged by it. It is not his morality ; but because it 
is professional, he does not fear that it will infect other plain 
citizens like himself. 

Some people shrug their shoulders and say that politicians 
have always been so. Others, especially among the cultivated 

1 This remark does not apply to the malversations of officials in cities like 
Now York or Philadelphia. These nobody can help knowing. 



240 THE PARTY SYSTEM part hi 

classes, will tell you that they wash their hands of the whole 
affair. "It is only the politicians — what can you expect 
from the politicians ? " But there are also many who are 
shocked, and who, as already observed, exert themselves 
through the press, and by agitating where they see an oppor- 
tunity of catching the public ear, to purify politics. Leaving 
out the cynics on the one side, and the perfectionist reformers 
on the other, and looking at the bulk of ordinary citizens, the 
fair conclusion from the facts is that many do not realize the 
evil who ought to realize it and be alarmed, and that those 
who do realize it are not sufficiently alarmed. They take it too 
easily. Yet now and then when roused they will inflict severe 
penalties on the givers and receivers of bribes, as they lately 
did on the Xew York aldermen who were bribed to grant the 
right of laying a horse-car line in Broadway. 

Election Frauds. — As these are offences against popular gov- 
ernment and injure the opposite party, they excite stronger, 
or at least more general disapproval than do acts of venality, 
from which only the public purse suffers. Xo one attempts to 
palliate them ; but proof is difficult, and punishment therefore 
uncertain. Legislative remedies have been tried, and fresh 
ones are constantly being tried. If people are less indignant 
than they would be in England, it is because thej* are less sur- 
prised. There is one exception to the general condemnation of 
the practice. In the Southern States negro suffrage produced, 
during the few years of " carpet-bagging " and military govern- 
ment which followed the war, incredible mischief. When these 
States recovered full self-government, and the former u rebels" 
were readmitted to the suffrage, the upper class of the white 
population "took hold" again, and in order, as they expressed 
it, "to save civilization," resolved that come what might, the 
negro and white Eepublican vote should not, by obtaining a 
majority in the State legislatures, be in a position to play these 
pranks further. The negroes were at first roughly handled or, 
to use the technical term, "bull-dozed," but as this excited 
anger at the North, it was found better to attain the desired 
result by manipulating the elections in various ways, "using 
no more fraud than was necessary in the premises," as the 
pleaders say. As the negroes are obviously unfit for the suf- 
frage, these services to civilization have been leniently regarded 



chap, i.xxv WHAT THE PEOPLE THINK OF IT 241 

even at the North, and are justified at the South by men quite 
above the suspicion of personal corruption. 

The Machine. — The perversion by Rings and Bosses of the 
nominating machinery of primaries and conventions excites a 
disgust whose strength is proportioned to the amount of 
fraud and trickery employed, an amount not great when the 
u good citizens " make no counter exertions. The disgust is 
less than a European expects, for it is mingled with amuse- 
ment. The Boss is a sort of joke, albeit an expensive joke. 
u After all," people say, " it is our own fault. If we all went 
to the primaries, or if we all voted an Independent ticket, we 
could make an end of the Boss." There is a sort of fatalism 
in their view of democracy. If a thing exists in a free country, 
it lias a right to exist, for it exists by the leave of the people, 
who may be deemed to acquiesce in what they do not extin- 
guish. 

The Sj)oils System. — As to spoils and favouritism in pat- 
ronage, I have already explained why the average citizen toler- 
ates both. He has been accustomed to think rotation in office 
a recognition of equality, and a check on the growth of that 
old bugbear, an " aristocracy of office-holders." He does not 
see how favouritism can be prevented, for competitive examina- 
tions have seemed pedantic. Usage has sanctioned a certain 
amount of jobbery, so you must not be too hard on a man who 
does no more than others have done before him. 

The conduct, as well as the sentiment, of the people is so 
much better than the practice of politicians that it is hard to 
understand why the latter are judged so leniently. ]STo ordi- 
nary citizen, much less a man of social standing and high educa- 
tion, would do in his private dealings what many politicians do 
with little fear of disgrace. The career of the latter is not 
destroyed, while the former would lose the respect of his neigh- 
bours, and probably his chances in the world. Europe presents 
no similar contrast between the tone of public and that of pri- 
vate life. 

There is, however, one respect in which a comparison of the 
political morality of the United States with that of England 
does injustice to the former. 

The English have two moralities for public life, the one con- 
ventional or ideal, the other actual. The conventional finds 
vol. rr r 



242 THE PARTY SYSTEM part hi 

expression not merely in the pulpit, but also in the speeches 
of public men, in the articles of journalists. Assuming the 
normal British statesman to be patriotic, disinterested, truth- 
ful, and magnanimous, it treats every fault as a dereliction 
from a well-settled standard of duty, a quite exceptional dere- 
liction which disentitles the culprit to the confidence even of 
his own party, but does not affect the generally high tone of 
British political life. The actual morality, as one gathers it 
in the lobbies of the legislative chambers, or the smoking-rooms 
of political clubs, or committee-rooms at contested elections, is 
a different affair. It regards (or lately regarded) the bribery 
of voters as an offence only when detection followed ; it assumes 
that a minister will use his patronage to strengthen his party 
or himself ; it smiles at election pledges as the gods smiled at 
lovers' vows ; it defends the abuse of parliamentary rules ; it 
tolerates equivocations and misleading statements proceeding 
from an official even when they have not the excuse of State 
necessity. It is by this actual standard that Englishmen do 
in fact judge one another ; and he who does not sink below it 
need not fear the conventional ideality of press and pulpit. 

Perhaps this is only an instance of the tendency in all pro- 
fessions to develop a special code of rules less exacting than 
those of the community at large. As a profession holds some 
things to be wrong, because contrary to its etiquette, which 
are in themselves harmless, so it justifies other things in 
themselves blamable. In the mercantile world, agents play 
sad tricks on their principals in the matter of commissions, 
and their fellow-merchants are astonished when the courts of 
law compel the ill-gotten gains to be disgorged. At the Uni- 
versity of Oxford, everybody who took a Master of Arts degree 
was, until 1871, required to sign the Thirty-nine Articles of 
the Church of England. Hundreds of men signed who did 
not believe, and admitted that they did not believe, the dogmas 
of this formulary ; but nobody thought the worse of them for 
a solemn falsehood. We know what latitude, as regards truth, 
a " scientific witness," honourable enough in his private life, 
permits himself in the witness box. Each profession indulges 
in deviations from the established rule of morals, but takes 
pains to conceal these deviations from the general public, and 
continues to talk about itself and its traditions with an air of 



(SAP. t.xxv WHAT THE PEOPLE THINK OF IT 243 

unsullied virtue. What each profession does for itself most 
individual men do for themselves. They judge themselves by 
themselves, that is to say, by their surroundings and their 

own past acts, and thus erect in the inner forum of conscience 
a more lenient code for their own transgressions than that 
which they apply to others. A fault which a man lias often 
committed seems to him slighter than one he has refrained 
from and sees others committing. Often he gets others to take 
the same view. " It is only his way/' they say; "it is just like 
Eoger." The same thing happens with nations. The particular 
forms in which faults like corruption, or falsehood, or unscrupu- 
lous partisanship have appeared in the recent political history 
of a nation shock its moral sense less than similar offences 
which have taken a different form in some other country. 

Xow England, while accustomed to judge her own statesmen, 
as well as her national behaviour generally, by the actual 
standard, and therefore to overlook many deflections from the 
ideal, always applies the conventional or absolute standard to 
other countries, and particularly to America, which has been 
subjected to that censorious scrutiny which the children of 
an emigrant brother receive on their return from aunts and 
uncles. 

How then does America deal with herself ? 

She is so far lenient to her own defects as to judge them by 
her past practice ; that is to say, she is less shocked by certain 
political vices, because these vices are familiar, than might 
have been expected from the generally high tone of her people. 
But so far from covering things up as the English do, pro- 
fessing a high standard, and applying it rigorously to other 
countries, but leniently to her own offspring, she gives an 
exceptionally free course to publicity of all kinds, and allows 
writers and speakers to paint the faults of her politicians in 
strong, not to say exaggerated, colours. Such excessive can- 
dour is not an unmixed gain. It removes the restraint which 
the maintenance of a conventional standard imposes. There 
is almost too little of make-believe about Americans in public 
writing, as well as in private talk, and their dislike to humbug, 
hypocrisy, and what they call English pharisaism, not only 
tends to laxity, but has made them wrong in the eyes of the 
Old "World their real moral sensitiveness. Accustomed to see 



244 THE PARTY SYSTEM part iii 

constant lip-service rendered to a virtue not intended to be 
practised, Europeans naturally assume that things are in the 
United States several shades darker than they are painted, 
and interpret frankness as cynicism. Were American politics 
judged by the actual and not the conventional standard of 
England, the contrast between the demerits of the politicians 
and the merits of the people would be less striking. 



PAET IV 

PUBLIC OPINION 



CHAPTEB LXXVT 

THE NATURE OF PUBLIC OPINION 

In no country is public opinion so powerful as in the United 
States : in no country can it be so well studied. Before I pro- 
ceed to describe how it works upon the government of the 
nation and the States, it may be proper to consider briefly how 
it is formed, and what is the nature of the influence which it 
everywhere exercises upon government. 

What do we mean by public opinion ? The difficulties 
which occur in discussing its action mostly arise from con- 
founding opinion itself with the organs whence people try to 
gather it. and from using the term to denote, sometimes every- 
body's views, — that is, the aggregate of all that is thought 
and said on a subject, — sometimes merely the views of the 
majority, the particular type of thought and speech which 
prevails over other types. 

The simplest form in which public opinion presents itself is 
when a sentiment spontaneously rises in the mind and flows 
from the lips of the average man upon his seeing or hearing 
something done or said. Homer presents this with his usual 
vivid directness in the line which frequently recurs in the Iliad 
when the effect produced by a speech or event is to be con- 
veyed: ••'And thus any one was saying as he looked at his 
neighbour.' 7 This phrase describes what may be called the 
rudimentary stage of opinion. It is the prevalent impression 
of the moment. It is what any man (not every man) says. 
i.e. it is the natural and the general thought or wish which an 
occurrence evokes. But before opinion begins to tell upon 
government, it has to go through several other stages. These 
stages are various in different ages and countries. Let us try 
to note what they are in England or America at the present 
time, and how each stage grows out of the other. 

247 



248 PUBLIC OPINION part iv 

A business man reads in his newspaper at breakfast the 
events of the preceding day. He reads that Prince Bismarck 
has announced a policy of protection for German industry, or 
that Mr. Henry George has been nominated for the mayoralty 
of New York. These statements arouse in his mind sentiments 
of approval or disapproval, which may be strong or weak 
according to his previous predilection for or against protec- 
tion or Mr. Henry George, and of course according to his per- 
sonal interest in the matter. They rouse also an expectation 
of certain consequences likely to follow. Neither the senti- 
ment nor the expectation is based on processes of conscious 
reasoning — our business man has not time to reason at break- 
fast — they are merely impressions formed on the spur of the 
moment. He turns to the leading article in the newspaper, 
and his sentiments and expectations are confirmed or weak- 
ened according as he finds that they are or are not shared by 
the newspaper writer. He goes down to his office in the train, 
talks there to two or three acquaintances, and perceives that 
they agree or do not agree with his own still faint impressions. 
In his counting-house he finds his partner and a bundle of 
other newspapers which he glances at; their words further 
affect him, and thus by the afternoon his mind is beginning to 
settle down into a definite view, which approves or condemns 
Prince Bismarck's declaration or the nomination of Mr. George. 
Meanwhile a similar process has been going on in the minds 
of others, and particularly of the journalists, whose business 
it is to discover what people are thinking. The evening paper 
has collected the opinions of the morning papers, and is rather 
more positive in its forecast of results. Next day the leading 
journals have articles still more definite and positive in ap- 
proval or condemnation and in prediction of consequences to 
follow ; and the opinion of ordinary minds, hitherto fluid and 
undetermined, has begun to crystallize into a solid mass. 
This is the second stage. Then debate and controversy begin. 
The men and the newspapers who approve Mr. George's nomi- 
nation argue with those who do not ; they find out who are 
friends and who opponents. The effect of controversy is to 
drive the partisans on either side from some of their argu- 
ments, which are shown to be weak ; to confirm them in 
others, which they think strong ; and to make them take up a 



chat, i xxvi NATURE OF PUBLIC OPINION 249 

definite position on one side. This is the third stage. The 
fourth is reached when action becomes necessary. When a 
citizen has to give a vote, he votes as a member of a party ; 
his party prepossessions and party allegiance lay hold on him, 
and generally stifle any doubts or repulsions he may feel. 
Bringing men up to the polls is like passing a steam roller 
over stones newly laid on a road : the angularities are pressed 
down, and an appearance of smooth and even uniformity is 
given which did not exist before. When a man has voted, he 
is committed: he has thereafter an interest in backing the 
view which he has sought to make prevail. Moreover, opin- 
ion, which may have been manifold till the polling, is there- 
after generally twofold only. There is a view which has 
triumphed and a view which has been vanquished. 

In examining the process by which opinion is formed, we 
cannot fail to note how small a part of the view which the 
average man entertains when he goes to vote is really of his 
own making. His original impression was faint and perhaps 
shapeless : its present defmiteness and strength are mainly due 
to what he has heard and read. He has been told what to 
think, and why to think it. Arguments have been supplied to 
him from without, and controversy has imbedded them in his 
mind. Although he supposes his view to be his own, he holds 
it rather because his acquaintances, his newspapers, his party 
leaders all hold it. His acquaintances do the like. Each man 
believes and repeats certain phrases, because he thinks that 
everybody else on his own side believes them, and of what each 
believes only a small part is his own original impression, the 
far larger part being the result of the commingling and mutual 
action and reaction of the impressions of a multitude of indi- 
viduals, in which the element of pure personal conviction, based 
on individual thinking, is but small. 

Every one is of course predisposed to see things in some one 
particular light by his previous education, habits of mind, 
accepted dogmas, religious or social affinities, notions of his 
own personal interest. ISTo event, no speech or article, ever 
falls upon a perfectly virgin soil : the reader or listener is 
always more or less biassed already. When some important 
event happens, which calls for the formation of a view, these 
pre-existing habits, dogmas, affinities, help to determine the 



250 PUBLIC OPINION 



impression which each man experiences, and so far are factors 
in the view he forms. But they operate chiefly in determining 
the first impression, and they operate over many minds at once. 
They do not produce variety and independence : they are soon 
overlaid by the influences which each man derives from his 
fellows, from his leaders, from the press. 

Orthodox democratic theory assumes that every citizen has, 
or ought to have, thought out for himself certain opinions, i.e. 
ought to have a definite view, defensible by arguments, of what 
the country needs, of what principles ought to be applied in 
governing it, of the men to whose hands the government ought 
to be entrusted. There are persons who talk, though certainly 
very few who act, as if they believed this theory, which may be 
compared to the theory of some ultra-Protestants that every 
good Christian has or ought to have, by the strength of his own 
reason, worked out for himself from the Bible a System of the- 
ology. But one need only try the experiment of talking to that 
representative of public opinion whom the Americans call " the 
man in the cars," to realize how uniform opinion is among all 
classes of people, how little there is in the ideas of each indi- 
vidual of that individuality which they would have if he had 
formed them for himself, how little solidity and substance there 
is in the political or social beliefs of nineteen persons out of 
every twenty. These beliefs, when examined, mostly resolve 
themselves into two or three prejudices and aversions, two or 
three prepossessions for a particular leader or party or section 
of a party, two or three phrases or catchwords suggesting or 
embodying arguments which the man who repeats them has 
not analyzed. It is not that these nineteen persons are incapa- 
ble of appreciating good arguments, or are unwilling to receive 
them. On the contrary, and this is especially true of the work- 
ing classes, an audience is pleased when solid arguments are 
addressed to it, and men read with most relish the articles or 
leaflets, supposing them to be smartly written, which contain 
the most carefully sifted facts and the most exact thought. 
But to the great mass of mankind in all places, public ques- 
tions come in the third or fourth rank among the interests of 
life, and obtain less than a third or a fourth of the leisure avail- 
able for thinking. It is therefore rather sentiment than thought 
that the mass can contribute, a sentiment grounded on a few 



chaf. lxxvi NATURE OF PUBLIC OPINION 851 

broad considerations and simple trains of reasoning; and the 
soundness and elevation of their sentiment will have mere to 
do with their taking their stand on the side of justice, honour, 
and peace, than any reasoning they can apply to the sifting of 

the multifarious facts thrown before them, and to the drawing 
of the legitimate inferences therefrom. 

It may be suggested that this analysis, if true of the unedu- 
cated, is not true of the educated classes. It is less true of 
that small class which in Europe specially occupies itself with 
politics; which, whether it reasons well or ill. does no doubt 
reason. But it is substantially no less applicable to the com- 
mercial and professional classes than to the working classes ; 
for in the former, as well as in the latter, one finds few persons 
who take the pains, or have the leisure, or indeed possess the 
knowledge, to enable them to form an independent judgment. 
The chief difference between the so-called upper, or wealthier, 
and the humbler strata of society is. that the former are less 
influenced by sentiment and possibly more influenced by no- 
tions, often erroneous, of their own interest. Having some- 
thing to lose, they imagine dangers to their property or their 
class ascendency. Moving in a more artificial society, their 
sympathies are less readily excited, and they more frequently 
indulge the tendency to cynicism natural to those who lead a 
life full of unreality and conventionalisms. 

The apparent paradox that where the humbler classes have 
differed in opinion from the higher, they have often been 
proved by the event to have been right and their so-called bet- 
ters wrong (a fact sufficiently illustrated by the experience of 
many Euro pean countries during the last half-century 1 ), may 
perhaps be explained by considering that the historical and 
scientific data on which the solution of a difficult political 
problem depends are really just as little known to the wealthy 
as to the poor. Ordinary education, even the sort of education 

1 It may be said that this has been so because the movements of the last 
half-century have been mostly movements in a democratic direetioD. which 
obtained the sympathy of the humbler classes because tending to break down 
the power and privilege which the upper classes previously enjoyed. This 
observation, however, does not meet all the cases, among which may be 
mentioned the attitude of the English working classes towards Italy from 
1S4S onwards, as well as their attitude in the American Civil War from 1861 to 
1865, and in the Eastern Question from 187(5 onwards, for in none of these 
instances had they any personal interest. 



252 PUBLIC OPINION 



which is represented by a university degree, does not fit a man 
to handle these questions, and it sometimes fills him with a 
vain conceit of his own competence which closes his mind to 
argument and to the accumulating evidence of facts. Educa- 
tion ought, no doubt, to enlighten a man ; but the educated 
classes, speaking generally, are the property-holding classes, 
and the possession of property does more to make a man timid 
than education does to make him hopeful. He is apt to under- 
rate the power as well as the worth of sentiment; he over- 
values the restraints which existing institutions impose, he has 
a faint appreciation of the curative power of freedom, and of 
the tendency which brings things right when men have been 
left to their own devices, and have learnt from failure how to 
attain success. In the less-educated man a certain simplicity 
and openness of mind go some way to compensate for the lack 
of knowledge. He is more apt to be influenced by the author- 
ity of leaders ; but as, at least in England and America, he is 
generally shrewd enough to discern between a great man and 
a demagogue, this is more a gain than a loss. 

While suggesting these as explanations of the paradox, I 
admit that it remains a paradox. But the paradox is not in 
the statement, but in the facts. Nearly all great political and 
social causes have made their way first among the middle or 
humbler classes. The original impulse which has set the cause 
in motion, the inspiring ideas that have drawn men to it, have 
come from lofty and piercing minds, and minds generally 
belonging to the cultivated class. But the principles and pre- 
cepts these minds have delivered have waxed strong because 
the common people received them gladly, while the wealthy 
and educated classes have frowned on or persecuted them. 
The most striking instance of all is to be found in the early 
history of Christianity. 

The analysis, however, which I have sought to give of opin- 
ion applies only to the nineteen men out of twenty, and not to 
the twentieth. It applies to what may be called passive opinion 
— the opinion of those who have no special interest in politics, 
or concern with them beyond that of voting, of those who 
receive or propagate, but do not originate, views on public mat- 
ters. Or, to put the same thing in different words, we have 
been considering how public opinion grows and spreads, as it 



iii.w-. ...wvi NATURE OF PUBLIC OPINION 253 

were, spontaneously and naturally. But opinion does not 
merely grow; it is also made. There is not merely the passive 
class of persons; there is the active class, who occupy them- 
selves primarily with public affairs, who aspire to create and 
lead opinion. The processes which these guides follow are 
too well known to need description. There are, however, one 
or two points which must be noted, in order to appreciate the 
reflex aetion of the passive upon the active class. 

The man who tries to lead public opinion, be he statesman, 
journalist, or lecturer, finds in himself, when he has to form a 
judgment upon any current event, a larger measure of individual 
prepossession, and of what may be called political theory and 
doctrine, than belongs to the average citizen. His view is there- 
fore likely to have more individuality, as well as more intel- 
lectual value. On the other hand, he has also a stronger motive 
than the average citizen for keeping in agreement with his 
friends and his party, because if he stands aloof and advocates 
a view of his own, he may lose his influence and his position. 
He has a past, and is prevented, by the fear of seeming incon- 
sistent, from departing from what he has previously said. He 
has a future, and dreads to injure it by severing himself ever 
so little from his party. He is accordingly driven to make the 
same sort of compromise between his individual tendencies and 
the general tendency which the average citizen makes. But he 
makes it more consciously, realizing far more distinctly the 
difference between what he would think, say, and do, if left to 
himself, and what he says and does as a politician, who can be 
useful and prosperous only as a member of a body of persons 
acting together and professing to think alike. 

Accordingly, though the largest part of the work of forming 
opinion is done by these men, — whom I do not call professional 
politicians, because in Europe many of them are not solely occu- 
pied with politics, while in America the name of professionals 
must be reserved for another class, — we must not forget the 
reaction constantly exercised upon them by the passive majority. 
Sometimes a leading statesman or journalist takes a line to 
which he finds that the mass of those who usually agree with 
him are not responsive. He perceives that they will not follow 
him, and that he must choose between isolation and a modifica- 
tion of his own views. A statesman may sometimes venture 



254 PUBLIC OPINION 



on the former course, and in very rare cases succeed in impos- 
ing his own will and judgment on his party. A journalist, 
however, is obliged to hark back if he has inadvertently taken 
up a position disagreeable to his clientele, because the proprietors 
of the paper have their circulation to consider. To avoid so 
disagreeable a choice a statesman or a journalist is usually on 
the alert to sound the general opinion before he commits himself 
on a new issue. He tries to feel the pulse of the mass of aver- 
age citizens ; and as the mass, on the other hand, look to him 
for initiative, this is a delicate process. In European countries 
it is generally the view of the leaders which prevails, but it 
is modified by the reception which the mass give it ; it becomes 
accentuated in the points which they appreciate ; while those 
parts of it, or those ways of stating it, which have failed to find 
popular favour, fall back into the shade. 

This mutual action and reaction of the makers or leaders of 
opinion upon the mass, and of the mass upon them, is the most 
curious part of the whole process by which opinion is produced. 
It is also that part in which there is the greatest difference 
between one free country and another. In some countries, the 
leaders count for, say, three-fourths of the product, and the 
mass for one-fourth only. In others these proportions are 
reversed. In some countries the mass of the voters are not 
only markedly inferior in education to the few who lead, but 
also diffident, more disposed to look up to their betters. In 
others the difference of intellectual level between those who 
busy themselves with politics and the average voter is far 
smaller. Perhaps the leader is not so well instructed a man as 
in the countries first referred to ; perhaps the average voter is 
better instructed and more self-confident. Where both of these 
phenomena coincide, so that the difference of level is inconsid- 
erable, public opinion will evidently be a different thing from 
what it is in countries where, though the Constitution has 
become democratic, the habits of the nation are still aristo- 
cratic. This is the difference between America and the coun- 
tries of Western Europe. 



CHAPTER LXXVII 

GOVERNMENT BY PUBLIC OPINION 

We talk of public opinion as a new force in the world, con- 
spicuous only since governments began to be popular. States- 
men, even in the last generation, looked on it with some distrust 
or dislike. Sir Robert Peel, for instance, in a letter written in 
1820, speaks with the air of a discoverer, of " that great com- 
pound of folly, weakness, prejudice, wrong feeling, right feeling, 
obstinacy, and newspaper paragraphs, which is called public 
opinion." 

Yet opinion has really been the chief and ultimate power in 
nearly all nations at nearly all times. I do not mean merely the 
opinion of the class to which the rulers belong. Obviously the 
small oligarchy of Venice was influenced by the opinion of 
the Venetian nobility, as the absolute Czar is influenced now by 
the opinion of his court and his army. I mean the opinion, 
unspoken, unconscious, but not the less real and potent, of the 
masses of the people. Governments have always rested and, 
special cases apart, must rest, if not on the affection, then on 
the reverence or awe, if not on the active approval, then on the 
silent acquiescence, of the numerical majority. It is only by 
rare exception that a monarch or an oligarchy has maintained 
authority against the will of the people. The despotisms of the 
East, although they usually began in conquest, did not stand by 
military force but by popular assent. So did the feudal king- 
doms of mediaeval Europe. So do the despotisms of the Sultan 
(so far, at least, as regards his Mussulman subjects), of the Shah, 
and of the Chinese Emperor at this moment. The cases to the 
contrary are chiefly those of military tyrannies, such as existed 
in many of the Greek cities of antiquity, and in some of the 
Italian cities of the Renaissance, and such as exist now in the 
so-called republics of Central and South America. That even 



256 PUBLIC OPINION 



the Roman Empire, that eldest child of war and conquest, did 
not rest on force but on the consent and good-will of its subjects 
is shown by the smallness of its standing armies, nearly the 
whole of which were employed against frontier enemies, because 
there was rarely any internal revolt or disturbance to be feared. 
Belief in authority, and the love of established order, are among 
the strongest forces in human nature, and therefore in politics. 
The first supports governments de jure, the latter governments 
de facto. They combine to support a government which is de 
jure as well as de facto. Where the subjects are displeased, their 
discontent may appear perhaps in the epigrams which tempered 
the despotism of Louis XV. in France, perhaps in the sympathy 
given to bandits like Robin Hood, perhaps in occasional insur- 
rections like those of Constantinople under the Eastern Emperors. 
Of course, where there is no habit of combination to resist, dis- 
content may remain for some time without this third means of 
expressing itself. But, even when the occupant of the throne is 
unpopular, the throne as an institution is in no danger so long 
as it can command the respect of the multitude and show itself 
equal to its duties. 

In the earlier or simpler forms of political society public 
opinion is passive. It acquiesces in, rather than supports, the 
authority which exists, whatever its faults, because it knows of 
nothing better, because it sees no way to improvement, probably 
also because it is overawed by some kind of religious sanction. 
Human nature must have something to reverence, and the 
sovereign, because remote and potent and surrounded by pomp 
and splendour, seems to it mysterious and half divine. Worse 
administrations than those of Asiatic Turkey and Persia at this 
moment can hardly be imagined, yet the Mohammedan popula- 
tion show no signs of disaffection. The subjects of Darius and 
the subjects of Theebaw obeyed as a matter of course. They did 
not ask why they obeyed, for the habit of obedience was suffi- 
cient. They could, however, if disaffected, have at any moment 
overturned the throne, which had only, in both cases, an insignifi- 
cant force of guards to protect it. During long ages the human 
mind did not ask itself — in many parts of the world does not 
even now ask itself — questions which seem to us the most ob- 
vious. Custom, as Pindar said, is king over all mortals and 
immortals, and custom prescribed obedience. When in any so- 



cnvr. lxxvii GOVERNMENT BY PUBLIC OPINION 257 

ciety opinion becomes self-conscious, when it begins to realize 
its force and question the rights of its rulers, that society is 
already progressing, and soon finds means of organizing resist- 
ance and compelling reform. 

The difference, therefore, between despotically governed and 
free countries does not consist in the fact that the latter are 
ruled by opinion and the former by force, for both are generally 
ruled by opinion. It consists rather in this, that in the former 
the people instinctively obey a power which they do not know 
to be really of their own creation, and to stand by their own 
permission ; whereas in the latter the people feel their su- 
premacy, and consciously treat their rulers as their agents, 
while the rulers obey a power which they admit to have made 
and to be able to unmake them, — the popular will. In both 
cases force is seldom necessary, or is needed only against small 
groups, because the habit of obedience replaces it. Conflicts 
and revolutions belong to the intermediate stage, when the 
people are awakening to the sense that they are truly the 
supreme power in the State, but when the rulers have not yet 
become aware thgk their authority is merely delegated. When 
superstition and the habit of submission have vanished from 
the whilom subjects, when the rulers, recognizing that they 
are no more than agents for the citizens, have in turn formed 
the habit of obedience, public opinion has become the active 
and controlling director of a business in which it was before 
the sleeping and generally forgotten partner. But even when 
this stage has been reached, as has now happened in most 
civilized States, there are differences in the degree and mode 
in and by which public opinion asserts itself. In some coun- 
tries the habit of obeying rulers and officials is so strong that 
the people, once they have chosen the legislature or executive 
head by whom the officials are appointed, allow these officials 
almost as wide a range of authority as in the old days of 
despotism. Such people have a profound respect for govern- 
ment as government, and a reluctance, due either to theory or 
to mere laziness, perhaps to both, to interfere with its action. 
They say, " That is a matter for the Administration ; we have 
nothing to do with it " ; and stand as much aside or submit 
as humbly as if the government did not spring from their 
own will. Perhaps they practically leave themselves, like the 

VOL. II s 



258 PUBLIC OPINION 



Germans, in the hands of a venerated monarch or a forceful 
minister, giving these rulers a free hand so long as their policy 
moves in accord with the general sentiment of the nation, and 
maintains its glory. Perhaps while frequently changing their 
ministries, they nevertheless yield to each ministry, and to its 
executive subordinates all over the country, an authority great 
while it lasts, and largely controlling the action of the indi- 
vidual citizen. This seems to be still true of France. There 
are other countries in which, though the sphere of government 
is strictly limited by law, and the private citizen is little 
inclined to bow before an official, the habit has been to check 
the ministry chiefly through the legislature, and to review the 
conduct of both ministry and legislature only at long intervals, 
when an election of the legislature takes place. This has 
been, and to some extent is still, the case in Britain. Although 
the people rule, they rule not directly, but through the House 
of Commons, which they choose only once in four, five, or six 
years, and which may, at any given moment, represent rather 
the past than the present will of the nation. 

I make these observations for the sake of indicating another 
form which the rule of the people may assume. We have 
distinguished three stages in the evolution of opinion from its 
unconscious and passive into its conscious and active condi- 
tion. In the first it acquiesces in the will of the ruler whom 
it has been accustomed to obey. In the second conflicts arise 
between the ruling person or class, backed by those who are 
still disposed to obedience, on the one hand, and the more 
independent or progressive spirits on the other; and these 
conflicts are decided by arms. In the third stage the whilom 
ruler has submitted, and disputes are referred to the sovereign 
multitude, whose will is expressed at certain intervals upon 
slips of paper deposited in boxes, and is carried out by the min- 
ister or legislature to whom the popular mandate is entrusted. 
A fourth stage would be reached if the will of the majority of 
the citizens were to become ascertainable at all times, and 
without the need of its passing through a body of representa- 
tives, possibly even without the need of voting machinery at 
all. In such a state of things the sway of public opinion 
would have become more complete, because more continuous, 
than it is in those European countries which, like France, 



chap, i.xxvn GOVERNMENT BY PUBLIC OPINION 269 

Italy, and Britain, look chiefly to parliaments as exponents of 
national sentiment. The authority would seem to remain all 
the while in the mass of the citizens. Popular government 
would have been pushed so far as almost to dispense with, or 
at any rate to anticipate, the legal modes in which the majority 
speaks its will at the polling booths ; and this informal but 
direct control of the multitude would dwarf, if it did not super- 
sede, the importance of those formal but occasional deliver- 
ances made at the elections of representatives. To such a 
condition of things the phrase, "Rule of public opinion," might 
be most properly applied, for public opinion woidd not only 
reign but govern. 

The mechanical difficulties, as one may call them, of working 
such a method of government are obvious. How is the will of 
the majority to be ascertained except by counting votes ? how, 
without the greatest inconvenience, can votes be frequently 
taken on all the chief questions that arise ? No country has 
yet surmounted these inconveniences, though little Switzerland 
with her Referendum has faced and partially dealt with some 
of them. But what I desire to point out is that even where 
the machinery for weighing or measuring the popular will from 
week to week or month to month has not been, and is not likely 
to be, invented, there may nevertheless be a disposition on the 
part of the rulers, whether ministers or legislators, to act as if 
it existed ; that is to say, to look incessantly for manifestations 
of current popular opinion, and to shape their course in accord- 
ance with their reading of those manifestations. Such a dispo- 
sition will be accompanied by a constant oversight of public 
affairs by the mass of the citizens, and by a sense on their part 
that they are the true governors, and that their agents, execu- 
tive and legislative, are rather servants than agents. Where 
this is the attitude of the people on the one hand and of the 
persons who do the actual work of governing on the other, it 
may fairly be said that there exists a kind of government mate- 
rially, if not formally, different from the representative system 
as it presented itself to European thinkers and statesmen of the 
last generation. And it is to this kind of government that 
democratic nations seem to be tending. 

The state of things here noted will find illustration in what 
I have to say in the following chapters regarding opinion in the 



260 PUBLIC OPINION part iv 



United States. Meanwhile a few remarks may be hazarded on 
the rule of public opinion in general. 

The excellence of popular government lies not so much in its 
wisdom — for it is as apt to err as other kinds of government 
— as in its strength. It has been compared, ever since Sir Wil- 
liam Temple, to a pyramid, the firmest based of all buildings. 
Nobody can be blamed for obeying it. There is no appeal from 
its decisions. Once the principle that the will of the majority 
honestly ascertained must prevail, has soaked into the mind 
and formed the habits of a nation, that nation acquires not only 
stability, but immense effective force. It has no need to fear 
discussion and agitation. It can bend all its resources to the 
accomplishment of its collective ends. The friction that exists 
in countries where the laws or institutions handed down from 
former generations are incompatible with the feelings and 
wishes of the people has disappeared. A key has been found 
that will unlock every door. 

On the other hand, such a government is exposed to two 
dangers. One, the smaller one, yet sometimes troublesome, is 
the difficulty of ascertaining the will of the majority. I do not 
mean the difficulty of getting all citizens to vote, because it 
must be taken that those who do not vote leave their will in 
the hands of those who do, but the difficulty of obtaining by 
any machinery yet devised a quite honest record of the results 
of voting. Where the issues are weighty, involving immense 
interests of individual men or groups of men, the danger of 
bribery, of force, and still more of fraud in taking and counting 
votes, is a serious one. When there is reason to think that 
ballots have been tampered with, the value of the system is 
gone ; and men are remitted to the old methods of settling 
their differences. 

The other danger is that minorities may not sufficiently assert 
themselves. Where a majority has erred, the only remedy 
against the prolongation or repetition of its error is in the con- 
tinued protests and agitation of the minority, an agitation which 
ought to be conducted peaceably, by voice and pen, but which 
must be vehement enough to rouse the people and deliver them 
from the consequences of their blunders. But the more com- 
plete the sway of majorities is, so much the less disposed is a 
minority to maintain the contest. It loses faith in its cause 



CHAP, lxxvii GOVERNMENT BY PUBLIC OPINION 261 

and in itself, and allows its voice to be silenced by the trium- 
phant cries of its opponents. How are men to acquiesce 
promptly and loyally in the decision of a majority, and yet to 
£0 on arguing against it ? how can they be at once submissive 
and aggressive ? That conceit of his own goodness and great- 
ness which intoxicates an absolute monarch besets a sovereign 
people also, and the slavishness with which his ministers ap- 
proach an Oriental despot may reappear in the politicians of a 
Western democracy. The duty, therefore, of a patriotic states- 
man in a country where public opinion rules, would seem to be 
rather to resist and correct than to encourage the dominant 
sentiment. He will not be content with trying to form and 
mould and lead it, but he will confront it, lecture it, remind it 
that it is fallible, rouse it out of its self-complacency. Unfor- 
tunately, courage and independence are plants which a soil 
impregnated with the belief in the wisdom of numbers does 
not tend to produce : nor is there any art known to statesmen 
whereby their growth can be fostered. 

Experience has, however, suggested plans for lessening the 
risks incident to the dominance of one particular set of opin- 
ions. One plan is for the people themselves to limit their 
powers, i.e. to surround their own action and the action of 
their agents with restrictions of time and method which com- 
pel delay. Another is for them so to parcel out functions among 
many agents that no single one chosen indiscreetly, or obeying 
his mandate overzealously, can do much mischief, and that out 
of the multiplicity of agents differences of view may spring 
which will catch the attention of the citizens. 

The temper and character of a people may supply more 
valuable safeguards. The country which has worked out for 
itself a truly free government must have done so in virtue of 
the vigorous individuality of its children. Such an individu- 
ality does not soon yield even to the pressure of democratic 
conditions. In a nation with a keen moral sense and a capac- 
ity for strong emotions, opinion based on a love of what is 
deemed just or good will resist the multitude when bent on 
evil : and if there be a great variety of social conditions, of 
modes of life, of religious beliefs, these will prove centres of 
resistance to a dominant tendency, like rocks standing up in a 
river, at which he whom the current sweeps downwards may 



262 PUBLIC OPINION 



clutch. * Instances might be cited even from countries where 
the majority has had every source of strength at its command 
— physical force, tradition, the all but universal persuasions 
and prejudices of the lower as well as of the higher classes — in 
which small minorities have triumphed, first by startling and 
then by leavening and convincing the majority. This they 
have done in virtue of that intensity of belief which is oftenest 
found in a small sect or group, not because it is small, but 
because if its belief were not intense it would not venture to 
hold out at all against the adverse mass. The energy of each 
individual in the minority makes it in the long run a match 
for a majority huger but less instinct with vitality. In a free 
country more especially, ten men who care are a match for a 
hundred who do not. 

Such natural compensations as this occur in the physical as 
well as in the spiritual and moral world, and preserve both. 
But they are compensations on which the practical statesman 
cannot safely rely, for they are partial, they are uncertain, and 
they probably tend to diminish with the progress of democracy. 
The longer public opinion has ruled, the more absolute is the 
authority of the majority likely to become, the less likely are 
energetic minorities to arise, the more are politicians likely to 
occupy themselves, not in forming opinion, but in discovering 
and hastening to obey it. 



CHAPTER LXXVIII 

HOW PUBLIC OPINION RULES IN AMERICA 

It was observed in last chapter that the phrase "govern- 
ment by public opinion " is most specifically applicable to a 
system wherein the will of the people acts directly and con- 
stantly upon its executive and legislative agents. A govern- 
ment may be both free aud good without being subject to this 
continuous and immediate control. Still this is the goal 
toward which the extension of the suffrage, the more rapid 
diffusion of news, and the practice of self-government itself, 
necessarily lead free nations ; and it may even be said that one 
of their chief problems is to devise means whereby the national 
will shall be most fully expressed, most quickly known, most 
unresistingly and cheerfully obeyed. Delays and jerks are 
avoided, friction and consequent waste of force are prevented, 
when the nation itself watches all the play of the machinery 
and guides its workman by a glance. Towards this goal the 
Americans have marched with steady steps, unconsciously as 
well as consciously. jSo other people now stands so near it. 

Of all the experiments which America has made, this is that 
which best deserves study, for her solution of the problem 
differs from all previous solutions, and she has shown more 
boldness in trusting public opinion, in recognizing and giving 
effect to it, than has yet been shown elsewhere. Towering over 
Presidents and State governors, over Congress and State legis- 
latures, over conventions and the vast machinery of party, 
public opinion stands out, in the United States, as the great 
source of power, the master of servants who tremble before it. 

For the sake of making clear what follows, I will venture to 
recapitulate what was said in an earlier chapter as to the three 
forms which government lias taken in free countries. First 
came primary assemblies, such as those of the Greek republics 

263 



264 PUBLIC OPINION 



of antiquity, or those of the early Teutonic tribes, which have 
survived in a few Swiss cantons. The whole people met 
bated current questions, decided them by its votes, chose those 
who were to carry out its will. Such a system of direct popu- 
lar government is possible only in small communities, and in 
this day of large States has become a matter rather of anti- 
quarian curiosity than of practical moment. 

In the second form, power belongs to representative bodies. 
Parliaments and Chambers. The people in their various local 
areas elect men. supposed to be their wisest or most influential, 
to deliberate for them, resolve for them, choose their executive 
servants for them. They give these representatives a tolerably 
free hand, leaving them in power for a considerable space of 
time, and allowing them to act unchecked, except in so far as 
custom, or possibly some fundamental law. limits their discre- 
tion. This is done in the faith that the Chamber will feel its 
responsibility and act for the best interests of the country, 
carrying out what it believes to be the wishes of the majority, 
unless it should be convinced that in some particular point it 
knows better than the majority what the interests of the 
country require. Such a system has long prevailed in Eng- 
land, and the English model has been widely imitated on the 
continent of Europe and in the British colonies. 

The third is something between the other two. It may be 
regarded either as an attempt to apply the principle of primary 
assemblies to large countries, or as a modification of the repre- 
sentative system in the direction of direct popular sovereignty. 
There is still a legislature, but it is elected for so short a 
time and checked in so many ways that much of its power and 
dignity has departed. Ultimate authority is not with it. but 
with the people, who have fixed limits beyond which it cannot 
go. and who use it merely as a piece of machinery for carrying 
out their wishes and settling points of detail for them. The 
supremacy of their will is expressed in the existence of a 
Constitution placed above the legislature, although capable of 
alteration by a direct popular vote. The position of the repre- 
sentatives has been altered. They are conceived of. not as 
wise and strong men chosen to govern, but as delegates under 
specific orders to be renewed at short intervals. 

This is the form established in the United States. Congress 



chap, i.wviii HOW OPINION RULES IX AMERICA 265 

sits for two years only. It is strictly limited by the Consti- 
tution, and by the coexistence of the State governments, 
which the Constitution protects. It has (except by way of 
impeachment) no control over the Federal executive, which is 
directly named by and responsible to the people. So, too, 
the State legislatures sit for short periods, do not appoint the 
State executives, are hedged in by the prohibitions of the State 
constitutions. The people frequently legislate directly by 
enacting or altering a constitution. The principle of popular 
sovereignty could hardly be expressed more unmistakably. 
Allowing for the differences to which the vast size of the 
country gives rise, the mass of the citizens may be deemed as 
directly the supreme power as the Assembly was at Athens 
or Syracuse. 1 The only check on the mass is that which they 
have themselves imposed, and which the ancient democracies 
did not possess, the difficulty of changing a rigid constitution. 
And this difficulty is serious only as regards the Federal Con- 
stitution. 

As this is the most developed form of popular government, 
so is it also the form which most naturally produces what I 
have called government by public opinion. Popular govern- 
ment may be said to exist wherever all power is lodged in and 
issues from the people. Government by public opinion exists 
where the wishes and views of the people prevail, even before 
they have been conveyed through the regular law-appointed 
organs, and without the need of their being so conveyed. As 
in a limited monarchy the king, however powerful, must act 
through certain officers and in a defined legal way, whereas in 
a despotism he may act just as he pleases, and his initial written 
on a scrap of paper is as sure of obedience as his full name 
signed to a parchment authenticated by the Great Seal or the 
counter-signature of a minister, so where the power of the people 
is absolute, legislators and administrators are quick to catch its 
wishes in whatever way they may be indicated, and do not care 
to wait for the methods which the law prescribes. This happens 
in America. Opinion rules more fully, more directly, than under 
the second of the systems described above. 

1 Rome is a somewhat peculiar case, because she left far more power to her 
non-representative Senate and to her magistrates than the Greek democracies 
did to their councils or officials. See Chapter XXV. in Vol. I. 



266 PUBLIC OPINION 



A consideration of the nature of the State governments, as 
of the National government, will show that legal theory as well 
as popular self-confidence gives birth to this rule of opinion. 
Supreme power resides in the whole mass of citizens. They 
have prescribed, in the strict terms of a legal document, the 
form of government. They alone have the right to change it, 
and that only in a particular way. They have committed only 
a part of their sovereignty to their executive and legislative 
agents, reserving the rest to themselves. Hence their will, or, 
in other words, public opinion, is constantly felt by these agents 
to be, legally as well as practically, the controlling authority. 
In England, Parliament is the nation, not merely by a legal 
fiction, but because the nation looks to Parliament only, having 
neither reserved any authority to itself nor bestowed any else- 
where. In America, Congress is not the nation, and does not 
claim to be so. 

The ordinary functions and business of government, the 
making of laws, the imposing of taxes, the interpretation of 
laws and their execution, the administration of justice, the 
conduct of foreign relations, are parcelled out among a number 
of bodies and persons whose powers are so carefully balanced 
and touch at so many points that there is a constant risk of 
conflicts, even of deadlocks. Some of the difficulties thence 
arising are dealt with by the Courts, as questions of the inter- 
pretation of the Constitution. But in many cases the interven- 
tion of the courts, which can act only in a suit between parties, 
comes too late to deal with the matter, which may be an urgent 
one ; and in some cases there is nothing for the courts to decide, 
because each of the conflicting powers is within its legal right. 
The Senate, for instance, may refuse the measures which the 
House thinks necessary. The President may veto bills passed 
by both Houses, and there may not be a two-thirds majority to 
pass them over his veto. Congress may urge the President to 
take a certain course, and the President may refuse. The 
President may propose a treaty to the Senate, and the Senate 
may reject it. In such cases there is a stoppage of govern- 
mental action which may involve loss to the country. The 
master, however, is at hand to settle the quarrels of his ser- 
vants. If the question be a grave one, and the mind of the 
country clear upon it, public opinion throws its weight into one 



chap, i.xxvm HOW opinion RULES IN AMERICA 207 



or other scale, and its weight is decisive. Should opinion be 
nearly balanced, it is do doubt, difficult to ascertain, till the next 
election arrives, which of many discordant cries is really the 
prevailing voice. This difficulty must, in a large country, 
where frequent plebiscites are impossible, be endured ; audit 
may be well, when the preponderance of opinion is not great, 
that serious decisions should not be quickly taken. The gen- 
eral truth remains that a system of government by checks and 
balances specially needs the presence of an arbiter to incline 
the scale in favour of one or other of the balanced authorities, 
an 1 that public opinion must therefore be more frequently 
invoked and more constantly active in America than in other 
countries. 

Those who invented this machinery of checks and balances 
were anxious not so much to develop public opinion as to resist 
and build up breakwaters against it. No men were less revo- 
lutionary in spirit than the founders of the American Consti- 
tution. They had made a revolution in the name of Magna 
Oharta and the Bill of Eights : they were penetrated by a sense 
of the dangers incident to democracy. They conceived of pop- 
ular opinion as aggressive, unreasoning, passionate, futile, and 
a breeder of mob violence. We shall presently inquire whether 
this conception has been verified. Meantime be it noted that 
the efforts made in 1787 to divide authority and, so to speak, 
force the current of the popular will into many small channels 
instead of permitting it to rush down one broad bed, have 
really tended to exalt public opinion above the regular legally 
appointed organs of government. Each of these organs is too 
small to form opinion, too narrow to express it, too weak to 
give effect to it. It grows up not in Congress, not in State 
legislatures, not in those great conventions which frame plat- 
forms and choose candidates, but at large among the people. 
It is expressed in voices everywhere. It rules as a pervading 
and impalpable power, like the ether which passes through all 
things. It binds all the parts of the complicated system 
together, and gives them whatever unity of aim and action they 
possess. 

There is also another reason why the opinion of the whole 
nation is a more important factor in the government of the 
United States than anywhere in Europe. In Europe there has 



268 PUBLIC OPINION 



always been a governing class, a set of persons whom birth, or 
wealth, or education has raised above their fellows, and to 
whom has been left the making of public opinion together with 
the conduct of administration and the occupancy of places in 
the legislature. The public opinion of Germany, Italy, France, 
and England has been substantially the opinion of the class 
which wears black coats and lives in good houses, though in 
the two latter countries it has of late years been increasingly 
affected by the opinion of the classes socially lower. Although 
the members of the English Parliament now obey the mass of 
their constituents when the latter express a distinct wish, still 
the influence which plays most steadily on them and permeates 
them is the opinion of a class or classes, and not of the whole 
nation. The class to which the great majority of members of 
both Houses belong (i.e. the landowners and the persons occu- 
pied in professions and in the higher walks of commerce) is 
the class which chiefly forms and expresses what is called pub- 
lic opinion. Even in these days of vigilant and exacting con- 
stituencies one sees many members of the House of Commons the 
democratic robustness or provincial crudity of whose ideas melts 
like wax under the influence of fashionable dinner-parties and 
club smoking-rooms. It is a common complaint that it is hard 
for a member to "keep touch" with the opinion of the masses. 
In the United States public opinion is the opinion of the 
whole nation, with little distinction of social classes. The 
politicians, including the members of Congress and of State 
legislatures, are, perhaps not (as Americans sometimes insinu- 
ate) below, yet certainly not above the average level of their 
constituents. They find no difficulty in keeping touch with 
outside opinion. Washington or Albany may corrupt them, 
but not in the way of modifying their political ideas. They 
do not aspire to the function of forming opinion. They are 
like the Eastern slave who says " I hear and obey." Nor is 
there any one class or set of men, or any one " social layer," 
which more than another originates ideas and builds up politi- 
cal doctrine for the mass. The opinion of the nation is the 
resultant of the views, not of a number of classes, but of a 
multitude of individuals, diverse, no doubt, from one another, 
but, for the purposes of politics far less diverse than if they 
were members of groups defined by social rank or by property. 



chap, i.wvni HOW OPINION RULES IN AMERICA 2(59 

The consequences are noteworthy. Statesmen cannot, as in 
Europe, declare any sentiment which they find telling on their 
friends or their antagonists to be confined to the rich, or to 
the governing class, and to be opposed to the general sentiment 
of the people. In America yon cannot appeal from the classes 
to the masses. What the employer thinks, his workmen think. 1 
What the wholesale merchant feels, the retail storekeeper feels, 
and the poorer customers feel. Divisions of opinion are verti- 
cal and not horizontal. Obviously this makes opinion more 
easily ascertained, while increasing its force as a governing 
power, anil gives to the whole people, without distinction of 
classes, a clearer and fuller consciousness of being the rulers 
of their country than European peoples have. Every man 
knows that he is himself a part of the government, bound by 
duty as well as by self-interest to devote part of his time and 
thoughts to it. He may neglect this duty, but he admits it to 
be a duty. So the system of party organizations already 
described is built upon this theory ; and as this system is more 
recent, and is the work of practical politicians, it is even better 
evidence of the general acceptance of the doctrine than are the 
provisions of Constitutions. Compare European countries, or 
compare the other States of the New World. In the so-called 
republics of Central and South America a small section of the 
inhabitants pursue politics, while the rest follow their ordinary 
avocations, indifferent to elections and pronunciamentos and 
revolutions. In Germany, and in the German and Slavonic 
parts of the Austro-Hungarian monarchy, people think of the 
government as a great machine which will go on, whether they 
put their hand to or not, a few persons working it, and all the 
rest paying and looking on. The same thing is largely true of 
republican France, and of semi-republican Italy, where free 
government is still a novelty, and local self-government in its 
infancy. Even in England, though, the sixty years that have 
passed since the great Reform Act have brought many new 
ideas with them, the ordinary voter is still far from feeling, 
as the American does, that the government is his own, and he 
individually responsible for its conduct. 

1 Of course I do not include questions specially relating to labour, in which 
there may be a direct conflict of interests. 



CHAPTER LXXIX 

ORGANS OF PUBLIC OPIXIOX 

How does this vague, fluctuating, complex thing we call pub- 
lic opinion — omnipotent yet indeterminate, a sovereign to 
whose voice every one listens, yet whose words, because he 
speaks with as many tongues as the waves of a boisterous sea, 
it is so hard to catch — how does public opinion express itself 
in America ? By what organs is it declared, and how, since 
these organs often contradict one another, can it be discovered 
which of them speak most truly for the mass ? The more com- 
pletely popular sovereignty prevails in a country, so much the 
more important is it that the organs of opinion should be ade- 
quate to its expression, prompt, full, and unmistakable in their 
utterances. And in such European countries as England and 
Erance, it is now felt that the most successful party leader is 
he who can best divine from these organs what the decision of 
the people will be when a direct appeal is made to them at an 
election. 

I have already observed that in America public opinion is a 
power not satisfied with choosing executive and legislative 
agents at certain intervals, but continuously watching and guid- 
ing those agents, who look to it. not merely for a vote of 
approval when the next general election arrives, but also for 
directions which they are eager to obey, so soon as they have 
learnt their meaning. The efficiency of the organs of opinion 
is therefore more essential to the government of the United 
States than even to England or to France. 

An organ of public opinion is. however, not merely the ex- 
pression of views and tendencies already in existence, but a factor 
in further developing and moulding the judgment of the people. 
Opinion makes opinion. Men follow in the path which they 
see others treading : they hasten to adopt the view that seems 

270 



chap, lxxix ORGANS OF PUBLIC OPINION 271 

likely to prevail. Hence every weighty voice, be it that of a 
speaker, or an association, or a public meeting, or a newspaper, 
is at once the disclosure of an existing force and a further force 
influencing others. This fact, while it multiplies the organs 
through which opinion is expressed, increases the difficulty of 
using them aright, because every voice seeks to represent itself 
as that of the greater, or at least of a growing number. 

The press, and particularly the newspaper press, stands by 
common consent first among the organs of opinion. Yet few 
things are harder than to estimate its power, and state precisely 
in what that power consists. 

Newspapers are influential in three ways — as narrators, as 
advocates, and as weathercocks. They report events, they 
advance arguments, they indicate by their attitude what those 
who conduct them and are interested in their circulation take to 
be the prevailing opinion of their readers. In the first of these 
regards the American press is the most active in the world. 
Nothing escapes it which can attract any class of readers. It 
does not even confine itself to events that have happened, 
but is apt to describe others which may possibly have hap- 
pened, however slight the evidence for them : pariter facta atque 
infecta canebat. This habit affects its worth as an historic 
record and its influence with sober-minded people. But it is 
a natural result of the high pressure under which the news- 
paper business is carried on. The appetite for news, and for 
highly spiced or "'sensational" news, is enormous, and journal- 
ists working under keen competition and in unceasing haste 
take their chance of the correctness of the information they 
receive. 

Much harm there is, but possibly as much good. It is related 
of an old barrister that he observed: '-When I was young I 
lost a good many causes which I ought to have won, and now, 
that I have grown old and experienced, I win a good many 
causes which I ought to lose. So, on the whole, justice has 
been done.'' If in its heedlessness the press sometimes causes 
pain to the innocent, it does a great and necessary service 
in exposing evil-doers, many of whom would escape were it 
never to speak except upon sufficient evidence. It is a watch- 
dog whose noisy bark must be tolerated, even when the person 
who approaches has no bad intent. Xo doubt charges are so 



272 PUBLIC OPINION 



promiscuously and often so lightly made as to tell less than 
they would in a country where the law of libel was more fre- 
quently appealed to. But many abuses are unveiled, many 
more prevented by the fear of publicity. 

Although the leading American newspapers contain far more 
non-political matter than those of Europe, they also contain, 
especially, of course, before any important election, more domes- 
tic political intelligence than any, except perhaps two or three, 
of the chief English journals. The public has the benefit of 
hearing everything it can wish, and more than it ought to wish, 
to know about every occurrence and every personality. The 
intelligence is not quite of the same kind as in England or 
France. There are fewer reports of speeches, because fewer 
speeches of an argumentative nature are made, but more of the 
schemes and doings of conventions and political cliques, as well 
as of the sayings of individuals. 

As the advocates of political doctrines, newspapers are of 
course powerful, because they are universally read and often 
ably written. They are accused of unfairness and vitupera- 
tion, but I doubt if there is any marked difference in this respect 
between their behaviour and that of European papers at a time 
of excitement. Nor could I discover that their arguments were 
any more frequently than in Europe addressed to prejudice 
rather than to reason. In America, however, a leading article 
carries less weight of itself, being discounted by the shrewd 
reader as the sort of thing which the paper must of course be 
expected to say, and is effective only when it takes hold of 
some fact (real or supposed), and hammers it into the public 
mind. This is what the unclean politician has to fear. Mere 
abuse he does not care for, but constant references to and com- 
ments on misdeeds of which he cannot clear himself tell in the 
long run against him. 

The influence attributed to the press is evidenced not only 
by the posts (especially foreign legations) frequently bestowed 
upon the owners or editors of leading journals, but by the cur- 
rent appeals made to good party men to take in only stanch 
party papers, and by the threats to " read out " of the party 
journals which show a dangerous independence. Nevertheless, 
if the party press be estimated as a factor in the formation of 
opinion, whether by argument or by authority, it must be 



cii.vi-. lxxix ORGANS OF PUBLIC OPINION 273 

deemed less powerful in America than id Europe, because its 
average public is shrewder, more independent, less readily im- 
pressed by the mysterious •• we." L doubt if there be any 
paper by which any considerable number of people swear; and 
am sure that comparatively few quote their favourite journal 
as an oracle in the way many persons still do in England. The 
vast area of the republic and the absence of a capital prevent 
any one paper from winning its way to predominance, even in 
any particular section of the country. Herein one notes a 
remarkable contrast to the phenomena of the Old World. 
Although the chief American newspapers are, regarded as com- 
mercial properties, " bigger things " than those of Europe, 
they do not dominate the whole press as a few journals do in 
most European countries. Or, to put the same thing differ- 
ently, in England, and much the same may be said of France 
and Germany, some twenty newspapers cover nine-tenths of 
the reading public, whereas in America any given twenty papers 
would not cover one-third. 

In those cities, moreover, where one finds really strong papers, 
each is exposed to a severer competition than in Europe, for in 
cities most people look at more than one newspaper. The late 
Mr. Horace Greeley, who for many years owned and edited the 
New York Tribune, is the most notable case of an editor who, by 
his journalistic talent and great self-confidence, acquired such a 
personal influence as to make multitudes watch for and follow 
his deliverances. He was to the later Whig party and the earlier 
Republican party much what Katkoff was in our own time to 
the National party in Russia, and had, of course, a far greater 
host of readers. 

It is chiefly in its third capacity as an index and mirror of 
public opinion that the press is looked to. This is the function 
it chiefly aims at discharging; and public men feel that in 
showing deference to it they are propitiating, and inviting the 
commands of, public opinion itself. In worshipping the deity 
you learn to conciliate the priest. But as every possible view 
and tendency finds expression through some organ in the press, 
the problem is to discover which views have got popular 
strength behind them. Professed party journals are of little 
use, though one may sometimes discover from the way they 
advance an argument whether they think it will really tell on 

VOL. II T 



274 PUBLIC OPINION 



the opposite party, or use it only because it falls within their 
own programme. More may therefore be gleaned from the 
independent or semi-independent journals, whereof there are 
three classes : papers which, like two or three in the great 
cities, generally support one party, but are apt to fly off from 
it when they disapprove its conduct, or think the people will 
do so ; papers which devote themselves mainly to news, though 
they may give editorial aid to one or other party according to 
the particular issue involved, and papers not professedly or 
primarily political. Of this last class the most important 
members are the religious weeklies, to whose number and in- 
fluence few parallels can be discovered in Europe. They are 
mostly either neutral or somewhat loosely attached to their 
party, usually the Republican party, because it began as the 
Free Soil party, and includes, in the North, the greater number 
of serious-minded people. It is only on great occasions, such 
as a presidential election, or when some moral issue arises, 
that they discuss current politics at length. When they do, 
great is their power, because they are deemed to be less 
"thirled" to a party or a leader, because they speak from a 
moral standpoint, and because they are read on Sunday, a time 
of leisure, when their seed is more likely to strike root. The 
monthly magazines deal less with politics than do the lead- 
ing English monthlies, but their influence seems to grow with 
the increasing amount of excellent writing they contain. 

During presidential contests much importance is attributed 
to the attitude of the leading papers of the great cities, for 
the revolt of any one from its party — as, for instance, the 
revolt of several Republican papers during the election of 1884 
— indicates discontent and clanger. Where a schism exists 
in a State party, the bosses of one or other section will some- 
times try to capture and manipulate the smaller country papers 
so as to convey the impression that their faction is gaining 
ground. Newspapers take more notice of one another, both by 
quoting from friendly sheets and by attacking hostile ones, 
than is usual in England, so that any incident or witticism 
which can tell in a campaign is at once taken up and read in a 
day or two in every city from Detroit to New Orleans. 

The Americans have invented an organ for catching, measur- 
ing, and indicating opinion, almost unknown in Europe, in 



CHAP. i. xxix ORGANS OF PUBLIC OPINION 275 

their practice of citing the private deliverances of prominent 
men. Sometimes this is done by publishing a letter, addressed 
not to the newspaper but to a friend, who gives it the publicity 
for which it was designed. Sometimes it is announced how 
the prominent man is going to vote at the next election. A 
short paragraph will state that Judge So-and-So, or Dr. Blank, 
an eminent clergyman, is going to "bolt" the presidential or 
State ticket of his party; and perhaps the reasons assigned 
for his conduct follow. Of the same nature, but more elaborate, 
is the interview, in which the prominent man unbosoms him- 
self to a reporter, giving his view of the political position in a 
maimer less formal and obtrusive, but not less effective than 
that of a letter to the editor. Sometimes, at the editor's sug- 
gestion, or of his own motion, a brisk reporter waits on the 
leading citizen and invites the expression of his views, which 
is rarely refused, though, of course, it may be given in a 
guarded and unsatisfying way. Sometimes the leading citizen 
himself, when he has a fact on which to comment, or views to 
communicate, sends for the reporter, who is only too glad to 
attend. The plan has many conveniences, among which is 
the possibility of disavowing any particular phrase as one 
which has failed to convey the speaker's true meaning. All 
these devices help the men of eminence to impress their ideas 
on the public, while they show that there is a part of the 
public which desires such guidance. 

Taking the American press all in all, it seems to serve the 
expression, and subserve the formation, of public opinion more 
fully than does the press of any part of the European continent, 
and not less fully than that of England. Individual newspapers 
and journalists altogether may enjoy less power than is the 
case in some countries of the Old World ; but if this be so, the 
cause is to be found, not in the inferior capacity of editors and 
writers, but in the superior independence of the reading pub- 
lic, who regard their paper differently from the English, while 
finding it no less necessary a part of the mechanism of free 
government. The American press may not be above the moral 
level of the average good citizen, — in no country does one 
either expect or find it to be so, — but it is above the level of 
the Machine politicians in the cities. In the war waged against 
these worthies, the newspapers of New York, Boston, Phila- 



276 PUBLIC OPINION 



delphia, and Chicago have been one of the most effective 
battalions. 

While believing that a complete picture of current opinion 
can be more easily gathered from American than from English 
journals, I do not mean to imply that they supply all a poli- 
tician needs. Any one who has made it his business to feel 
the pulse of the public of his own country must be sensible 
that when he has been travelling abroad for a few weeks, he 
is sure, no matter how diligently he peruses the leading home 
papers of all shades, to " lose touch " of the current sentiment 
of the country in its actuality. The journals seem to convey 
to him what their writers wish to be believed, and not neces- 
sarily what the people are really thinking ; and he feels more 
and more as weeks pass the need of an hour's talk with four 
or five discerning friends of different types of thought, from 
whom he will gather how current facts strike and move the 
minds of his countrymen. Every prudent man keeps a circle 
of such friends, by whom he can test and correct his own im- 
pressions better than by the almost official utterances of the 
party journals. So in America there is much to be learnt from 
conversation with judicious observers outside politics and 
typical representatives of political sections and social classes, 
which the most diligent study of the press will not give. 

Letters on public questions from their constituents to mem- 
bers of Congress or of State legislatures seem to be less 
frequent than in England, where politicians find them no con- 
temptible indication of the topics that occupy the mind of the 
people. 

Except during electoral campaigns, public meetings, and 
especially public political dinners, play a smaller part in the 
political life of the United States than in that of Western 
Europe. Meetings were, of course, more frequent during the 
struggle against slavery than they need be in these quieter 
times, yet the difference between European and American 
practice cannot be wholly due to the more stirring questions 
which have latterly roused Europeans. A meeting in America 
is usually held for some practical object, such as the selection 
of candidates or the creation of an organization, less often as 
a mere demonstration of opinion and means of instruction. 
When instruction is desired, the habit is to bring down a man 



cii.vp. lxxix ORGANS OF PUBLIC OPINIOH 277 

of note to give a political lecture, paying him from $75 to 

'. or perhaps even $150, nor is it thought unbecoming for 
senators and ex-senators to accept such fees. The meetings 
during an election campaign, which are numerous enough, do 
not always provide argumentative speaking, for those who 
attend are assumed to be all members of one party, sound 
already, and needing nothing but an extra dose of enthusiasm ; 
but since the protective tariff has become a leading issue, the 
proportion of reasoning to declamation has increased. Mem- 
bers of Congress do not deliver such annual discourses to their 
constituents as it has become the fashion for members of the 
% House of Commons to deliver in England; and have iudeed 
_rther an easier time of it as regards speaking, though a 
far harder one as regards the getting of places for their con- 
stituents. American visitors to England seem surprised and 
even a little edified when they find how much meetings are 
made to do there in the way of eliciting and cultivating opinion 
among the electors. I have often heard them praise the Eng- 
lish custom, and express the wish that it prevailed in their 
own country. 

As the ceaseless desire of every public man is to know which 
way the people are going, and as the polls are the only sure 
index of opinion, every election, however small, is watched 
with close attention. Xow elections are in the United States 
as plentiful as revolutions in Peru. The vote cast for each 
party iu a city, or State legislature district, or congressional 
district, or State, at the last previous election, is compared 
with that now cast, and inferences drawn as to what will hap- 
pen at the next State or presidential election. Special interest 
attaches to the State pollings that immediately precede a pres- 
idential election, for they not only indicate the momentary 
temper of the particular voters but tell upon the country gen- 
erally, affecting that large number who wish to be on the win- 
ning side. As happens in the similar case of what are called 
'• by-elections n to the House of Commons in England, too much 
weight is generally attributed to these contests, which are 
sometimes, though less frequently than in England, decided by 
purely local causes. Such elections, however, give the people 
opportunities of expressing their displeasure at any recent 
misconduct chargeable to a party, and sometimes lead the 



278 PUBLIC OPINION part iv 

party managers to repent in time and change their course be- 
fore the graver struggle arrives. 

Associations are created, extended, and worked in the United 
States more quickly and effectively than in any other country. 
In nothing does the executive talent of the people better shine 
than in the promptitude wherewith the idea of an organization 
for a common object is taken up, in the instinctive discipline 
that makes every one who joins in starting it fall into his place, 
in the practical, business-like turn which the discussions forth- 
with take. Thus in 1884, the cattlemen of the further West, 
finding difficulties in driving their herds from Texas to Wyo- 
ming and Montana, suddenly convoked a great convention in 
Chicago which presented a plan for the establishment of a broad 
route from South to North, and resolved on the steps proper 
for obtaining the necessary legislation. Here, however, we are 
concerned with associations only as organs for focussing and 
propagating opinion. The greater ones, such as the temperance 
societies, ramify over the country and constitute a species of 
political organization which figures in State and even in presi- 
dential contests. Nearly every " cause," philanthropic, eco- 
nomic, or social, has something of the kind. Local associations 
or committees are often formed in cities to combat the Machine 
politicians in the interests of municipal reform ; while every 
important election calls into being a number of "campaign 
clubs," which work while the struggle lasts, and are then dis- 
solved. For these money is soon forthcoming; it is more 
plentiful than in Europe, and subscribed more readily for 
political purposes. 

Such associations have great importance in the development 
of opinion, for they rouse attention, excite discussion, formulate 
principles, submit plans, embolden and stimulate their members, 
produce that impression of a spreading movement which goes 
so far towards success with a sympathetic and sensitive people. 
Possunt quia posse videntur is doubly true in America as regards 
the spectators as well as the actors, because the appearance of 
strength gathers recruits as well as puts heart into the original 
combatants. Unexpected support gathers to every rising cause. 
If it be true that individuality is too weak in the country, strong 
and self-reliant statesmen or publicists too few, so much the 
greater is the value of this habit of forming associations, for it 



chap, lxxix ORGANS OF PUBLIC OPINION 279 

creates new centres of force and motion, and nourishes young 
causes and unpopular doctrines into self-confident aggressive- 
ness. But in any case they are useful as indications of the 
tendencies at work and the forces behind these tendencies. By 
watching the attendance at the meetings, the language held, 
the amount of zeal displayed, a careful observer can discover 
what ideas are getting hold of the popular mind. 

One significant difference between the formation and expres- 
sion of opinion in the United States and in Europe remains to 
be noted. In England and Wales 40 per cent of the popula- 
tion was in 1891 to be found in sixty -two cities with a popula- 
tion exceeding 50,000. In France opinion is mainly produced 
in, and policy, except upon a few of the broadest issues, dictated 
by, the urban population, though its number falls much below 
that of the rural. In America the cities with a population 
exceeding 50,000 inhabitants were, in 1890, fifty-eight in num- 
ber, with an aggregate population of 12,348,775, that is, 20 per 
cent of the total population. The number of persons to the 
square mile is 498 in England and Wales, only 21 in the United 
States, excluding Alaska. Hence those influences formative of 
opinion which city life produces, the presence of political 
leaders, the influence they personally diffuse, the striking out 
and testing of ideas in conversation, may tell somewhat less on 
the American than they do on the English people, crowded 
together in their little island, and would tell much less but for 
the stronger social instincts of the Americans and the more 
general habit of reading daily newspapers. 

In endeavouring to gather the tendencies of popular opinion, 
the task of an American statesman is in some respects easier 
than that of his English compeer. As social distinctions count 
for less in America, the same tendencies are more generally 
and uniformly diffused through all classes, and it is not neces- 
sary to discount so many special points of difference which 
may affect the result. As social intercourse is easier, and 
there is less gene between a person in the higher and one in 
the humbler ranks, a man can better pick up in conversation 
the sentiments of his poorer neighbours. Moreover, the num- 
ber of persons who belong to neither party, or on whom party 
allegiance sits loosely, is relatively smaller than in England, 
so the unpredictable vote — the doubtful element which in- 



280 PUBLIC OPINION 



eludes those called in England " arm-chair politicians " — does 
not so much disturb calculations. Nevertheless, the task of 
discerning changes and predicting consequences is always a 
difficult one, in which the most skilful observers may err. 
The country is large, the din of voices is incessant, the parties 
are in many places nearly balanced. There are frequent small 
changes from which it would be rash to infer any real move- 
ment of opinion, even as he who comes down to the beach 
must watch many wavelets break in ripples on the sand before 
he can tell whether the tide be ebbing or flowing. 

It may be asked how, if the organs of public opinion give so 
often an uncertain sound, public opinion can with truth be said 
not only to reign but to govern. The answer is that a sov- 
ereign is not the less a sovereign because his commands are 
sometimes misheard or rnis reported. In America every one 
listens for them. Those who manage the affairs of the country 
obey to the best of their hearing. They do not, as has been 
heretofore the case in Europe, act on their own view, and ask 
the people to ratify : they take the course which they believe 
the people at the moment desire. Leaders do not, as some- 
times still happens in England, seek to force or anticipate 
opinion ; or if they do, they suffer for the blunder by provok- 
ing a reaction. The people must not be hurried. A statesman 
is not expected to move ahead of them ; he must rather seem 
to follow, though if he has the courage to tell the people that 
they are wrong, and refuse to be the instrument of their 
errors, he will be all the more respected. Those who fail 
because they mistake eddies and cross currents for the main 
stream of opinion, fail more often from some personal bias, or 
from vanity, or from hearkening to a clique of adherents, than 
from want of materials for observation. A man who can dis- 
engage himself from preconceptions, who is in genuine sym- 
pathy with his countrymen, and possesses the art of knowing 
where to look for typical manifestations of their sentiments, 
will find the organs through which opinion finds expression 
more adequate as well as more abundant in America than they 
are in any other country. 



CHAPTEK LXXX 

NATIONAL CHARACTERISTICS AS MOULDING PUBLIC OPINION 

As the public opinion of a people is even more directly than 
its political institutions the reflection and expression of its 
character, we may begin the analysis of opinion in America by 
noting some of those general features of national character 
which give tone and colour to the people's thoughts and feelings 
on politics. There are, of course, varieties proper to different 
classes, and to different parts of the vast territory of the Union; 
but it is well to consider first such characteristics as belong to 
the nation as a whole, and afterwards to examine the various 
classes and districts of the country. And when I speak of the 
nation, I mean the native Americans. What follows is not 
applicable to the recent immigrants from Europe, and, of 
course, even less applicable to the Southern negroes ; though 
both these elements are potent by their votes. 

The Americans are a good-natured people, kindly, helpful to 
one another, disposed to take a charitable view even of wrong- 
doers. Their anger sometimes flames up, but the fire is soon 
extinct. Xowhere is cruelty more abhorred. Even a mob 
lynching a horse thief in the West has consideration for the 
criminal, and will give him a good drink 'of whisky before he is 
strung up. Cruelty to slaves was unusual while slavery lasted, 
the best proof of which is the quietness of the slaves during the 
war when all the men and many of the boys of the South were 
serving in the Confederate armies. As everybody knows, juries 
are more lenient to offences of all kinds but one, offences against 
women, than they are anywhere in Europe. The Southern 
' ; rebels " were soon forgiven ; and though civil wars are pro- 
verbially bitter, there have been few struggles in which the 
combatants did so many little friendly acts for one another, 
few in which even the vanquished have so quickly buried their 

281 



282 PUBLIC OPINION part iv 

resentments. It is true that newspapers and public speakers 
say hard things of their opponents ; but this is a part of the 
game, and is besides a way of relieving their feelings : the bark 
is sometimes the louder in order that a bite may not follow. 
Vindictiveness shown by a public man excites general dis- 
approval, and the maxim of letting bygones be bygones is 
pushed so far that an offender's misdeeds are often forgotten 
when they ought to be remembered against him. 

All the world knows that they are a humorous people. They 
are as conspicuously the purveyors of humour to the nineteenth 
century as the French were the purveyors of wit to the 
eighteenth. Nor is this sense of the ludicrous side of things 
confined to a few brilliant writers. It is diffused among the 
whole people ; it colours their ordinary life, and gives to their 
talk that distinctively new flavour which a European palate 
enjoys. Their capacity for enjoying a joke against themselves 
was oddly illustrated at the outset of the Civil War, a time of 
stern excitement, by the merriment which arose over the hasty 
retreat of the Federal troops at the battle of Bull Bun. When 
William M. Tweed was ruling and robbing New York, and had 
set on the bench men who were openly prostituting justice, the 
citizens found the situation so amusing that they almost forgot 
to be angry. Much of President Lincoln's popularity, and much 
also of the gift he showed for restoring confidence to the North 
at the darkest moments of the war, was due to the humorous 
way he used to turn things, conveying the impression of not 
being himself uneasy, even when he was most so. 

That indulgent view of mankind which I have already men- 
tioned, a view odd in a people whose ancestors were penetrated 
with the belief in original sin, is strengthened by this wish to 
get amusement out of everything. The want of serioilfcness 
which it produces may be more apparent than real. Yet it has 
its significance ; for people become affected by the language they 
use, as we see men grow into cynics when they have acquired 
the habit of talking cynicism for the sake of effect. 

They are a hopeful people. Whether or no they are right in 
calling themselves anew people, they certainly seem to feel in 
their veins the bounding pulse of youth. They see a long vista 
of years stretching out before them, in which they will have 
time enough to cure all their faults, to overcome all the obstacles 



chap, lxxx NATIONAL CHARACTERISTICS 283 

that block their path. They look at their enormous territory 
with its still only half-explored sources of wealth, they reckon 
up the growth of their population and their products, they 

contrast the comfort and intelligence of their labouring classes 
with the condition of the masses in the Old World. They 
remember the dangers that so long threatened the Union from 
the slave power, ami the rebellion it raised, and see peace and 
harmony now restored, the South more prosperous and con- 
tented than at any previous epoch, perfect good feeling be- 
tween all sections of the country. It is natural for them to 
believe in their star. And this sanguine temper makes them 
tolerant of evils which they regard as transitory, removable as 
soon as time can be found to root them up. 

They have unbounded faith in what they call the People 
and in a democratic system of government. The great States 
of the European continent are distracted by the contests of 
Eepublicans and Monarchists, and of rich and poor, — contests 
which go down to the foundations of government, and in France 
are further embittered by religious passions. Even in England 
the ancient Constitution is always under repair, and while 
many think it is being ruined by changes, others hold that 
still greater changes are needed to make it tolerable. No such 
questions trouble native American minds, for nearly everybody 
believes, and everybody declares, that the frame of government 
is in its main lines so excellent that such reforms as seem 
called for need not touch those lines, but are required only to 
protect the Constitution from being perverted by the parties. 
Hence a further confidence that the people are sure to decide 
right in the long run, a confidence inevitable and essential in a 
government which refers every question to the arbitrament of 
numbers. There have, of course, been instances where the 
once insignificant minority proved to have been wiser than the 
majority of the moment. Such was eminently the case in 
the great slavery struggle. But here the minority prevailed 
by growing into a majority as events developed the real issues, 
so that this also has been deemed a ground for holding that 
all minorities which have right on their side will bring round 
their antagonists, and in the long run win by voting power. 
If you ask an intelligent citizen why he so holds, he will 
answer that truth and justice are sure to make their way into 



284 PUBLIC OPINION 



the minds and consciences of the majority. This is deemed 
an axiom, and the more readily so deemed, because truth is 
identified with common sense, the quality which the average 
citizen is most confidently proud of possessing. 

This feeling shades off into another, externally like it, but 
at bottom distinct — the feeling not only that the majority, be 
it right or wrong, will and must prevail, but that its being the 
majority proves it to be right. This idea, which appears in 
the guise sometimes of piety and sometimes of fatalism, seems 
to be no contemptible factor in the present character of the 
people. It will be more fully dealt with in a later chapter. 
£ The Americans are an educated people, compared with the 
whole mass of the population in any European country except 
Switzerland, parts of Germany, Norway, Iceland, and Scotland ; 
that is to say, the average of knowledge is higher, the habit of 
reading and thinking more generally diffused, than in any 
other country. (I speak, of course, of the native Americans, 
excluding negroes and recent immigrants.) They know the 
Constitution of their own country, they follow public affairs, 
they join in local government and learn from it how govern- 
ment must be carried on, and in particular how discussion must 
be conducted in meetings, and its results tested at elections. 
The Town Meeting has been the most perfect school of self- 
government in any modern country. In villages, they still 
exercise their minds on theological questions, debating points 
of Christian doctrine with no small acuteness. Women in 
particular, though their chief reading is fiction and theology, 
pick up at the public schools and from the popular magazines 
far more miscellaneous information than the women of any 
European country possess, and this naturally tells on the in- 
telligence of the men.^ 

That the education of the masses is nevertheless a super- 
ficial education goes without saying. It is sufficient to enable 
them to think they know something about the great problems 
of politics : insufficient to show them how little they know. 
The public elementary school gives everybody the key to 
knowledge in making reading and writing familiar, but it has 
not time to teach him how to use the key, whose use is in fact, 
by the pressure of daily work, almost confined to the news- 
paper and the magazine. So we may say that if the political 



chap, i.xxx NATIONAL CHARACTERISTICS 285 

education of the average American voter be compared with 
that of the average voter in Europe, it stands high; but if it 
be compared with the functions which the theory of the Amer- 
ican government lavs on him, which its spirit implies, which 
the methods of its party organization assume, its inadequacy 
is manifest. This observation, however, is not so much a 
reproach to the schools, which generally do what English 
schools omit — instruct the child in the principles of the Con- 
stitution — as a tribute to the height of the ideal which the 
American conception of popular rule sets up. 

For the functions of the citizen are not, as has hitherto been 
the case in Kurope, confined to the choosing of legislators, who 
are then left to settle issues of policy and select executive 
rulers. The American citizen is one of the governors of the 
Republic. Issues are decided and rulers selected by the direct 
popular vote. Elections are so frequent that to do his duty at 
them a citizen ought to be constantly watching public affairs 
with a full comprehension of the principles involved in them, 
and a judgment of the candidates derived from a criticism of 
their arguments as well as a recollection of their past careers. 
The instruction received in the common schools and from the 
newspapers, and supposed to be developed by the practice of 
primaries and conventions, while it makes the voter deem him- 
self capable of governing, does not fit him to weigh the real 
merits of statesmen, to discern the true grounds on which 
questions ought to be decided, to note the drift of events and 
discover the direction in which parties are being carried. He 
is like a sailor who knows the spars and ropes of the ship and 
is expert in working her, but is ignorant of geography and 
navigation; who can perceive that some of the officers are 
smart and others dull, but cannot judge which of them is 
qualified to use the sextant or will best keep his head during 
a hurricane. 

They are a moral and well-conducted people. Setting aside 
the colluvies gentium which one finds in Western mining camps, 
and which popular literature has presented to Europeans as far 
larger than it really is, setting aside also the rabble of a few 
great cities and the negroes of the South, the average of tem- 
perance, chastity, truthfulness, and general probity is some- 
what higher than in any of the great nations of Europe. The 



286 PUBLIC OPINION 



instincts of the native farmer or artisan are almost invariably 
kindly and charitable. He respects the law ; he is deferential 
to women and indulgent to children; he attaches an almost 
excessive value to the possession of a genial manner and the 
observance of domestic duties. 

They are also a religious people. It is not merely that they 
respect religion and its ministers, for that one might say of 
Russians or Sicilians, not merely that they are assiduous 
church-goers and Sunday-school teachers, but that they have 
an intelligent interest in the form of faith they profess, are 
pious Avithout superstition, and zealous without bigotry. The 
importance which they still, though less than formerly, attach 
to dogmatic propositions, does not prevent them from feeling 
the moral side of their theology. Christianity influences con- 
duct, not indeed half as much as in theory it ought, but prob- 
ably more than it does in any other modern country, and far 
more than it did in the so-called ages of faith. 

Nor do their moral and religious impulses remain in the soft 
haze of self-complacent sentiment. The desire to expunge or 
cure the visible evils of the world is strong. Nowhere are so 
many philanthropic and reformatory agencies at work. Zeal 
outruns discretion, outruns the possibilities of the case, in not 
a few of the efforts made, as well by legislation as by voluntary 
action, to suppress vice, to prevent intemperance, to purify 
popular literature. 

Religion apart, they are an unreverential people. I do not 
mean irreverent, — far from it ; nor do I mean that they have 
not a great capacity for hero-worship, as they have many a time 
shown. I mean that they are little disposed, especially in 
public questions — political, economical, or social — to defer to 
the opinions of those who are wiser or better instructed than 
themselves. Everything tends to make the individual inde- 
pendent and self-reliant. He goes early into the world ; he is 
left to make his way alone ; he tries one occupation after an- 
other, if the first or second venture does not prosper ; he gets 
to think that each man is his own best helper and adviser. 
Thus he is led, I will not say to form his own opinions, for 
even in America few are those who do that, but to fancy that 
he has formed them, and to feel little need of aid from others 
towards correcting them. There is, therefore, less disposition 



chat. i\\\ NATIONAL CHARACTERISTICS 287 

than in Europe to expect light and loading on public, affairs 
from speakers or writers. Oratory is not directed towards 
instruction, but towards stimulation. Special knowledge, which 
commands deference in applied science or in finance, does not 
command it in politics, because that is not deemed a special 
subject, but one within the comprehension of every practical 
man. Politics is. to be sure, a profession, and so far might 
seem to need professional aptitudes. But the professional 
politician is not the man who has studied statesmanship, but 
the man who has practised the art of running conventions and 
winning elections. 

Even that strong point of America, the completeness and 
highly popular character of local government, contributes to 
lower the standard of attainment expected in a public man, 
because the citizens judge of all politics by the politics they 
see first and know best, — those of their township or city, — and 
fancy that he who is fit to be selectman, or county commis- 
sioner, or alderman, is fit to sit in the great council of the 
nation. Like the shepherd in Virgil, they think the only dif- 
ference between their town and Borne is in its size, and believe 
that what does for Lafayetteville will do well enough for 
Washington. Henee when a man of statesmanlike gifts ap- 
pears, he has little encouragement to take a high and states- 
manlike tone, for his words do not necessarily receive weight 
from his position. He fears to be instructive or hortatory, lest 
such an attitude should expose him to ridicule ; and in America 
ridicule is a terrible power. Nothing escapes it. Few have 
the courage to face it. In the indulgence of it even this humane 
race can be unfeeling. 

They are a busy people. I have already observed that the 
leisured class is relatively small, is in fact confined to a few 
Eastern cities. The citizen has little time to think about polit- 
ical problems. Engrossing all the working hours, his avoca- 
tion leaves him only stray moments for this fundamental duty. 
It is true that he admits his responsibilities, considers himself 
a member of a party, takes some interest in current events. 
But although he would reject the idea that his thinking should 
be done for him, he has not leisure to do it for himself, and 
must practically lean upon and follow his party. It astonishes 
an English visitor to find how small a part politics play in 



288 PUBLIC OPINION 



conversation among the wealthier classes and generally in the 
cities. During a tour of four months in America in the autumn 
of 1881, in which I had occasion to mingle with all sorts and 
conditions of men in all parts of the country, and particularly 
in the Eastern cities, I never once heard American politics 
discussed except when I or some other European brought the 
subject on the carpet. In a presidential year, and especially 
during the months of a presidential campaign, there is, of 
course, abundance of private talk, as well as of public speak- 
ing, but even then the issues raised are largely personal rather 
than political in the European sense. But at other times the 
visitor is apt to feel — more, I think, than he feels anywhere 
in Britain — that his host has been heavily pressed by his own 
business concerns during the day, and that when the hour of 
relaxation arrives he gladly turns to lighter and more agreeable 
topics than the state of the nation. This remark is less appli- 
cable to the dwellers in villages. There is plenty of political 
chat round the store at the cross roads, and though it is rather 
in the nature of gossip than of debate, it seems, along with the 
practice of local government, to sustain the interest of ordinary 
folk in public affairs. 1 

The want of serious and sustained thinking is not confined 
to politics. One feels it even more as regards economical and 
social questions. To it must be ascribed the vitality of certain 
prejudices and fallacies which could scarcely survive the con- 
tinuous application of such vigorous minds as one finds among 
the Americans. Their quick perceptions serve them so well 
in business and in the ordinary affairs of private life that they 
do not feel the need for minute investigation and patient re- 
flection on the underlying principles of things. They are apt 
to ignore difficulties, and when they can no longer ignore them, 
they will evade them rather than lay siege to them according 
to the rules of art. The sense that there, is no time to spare 
haunts an American even when he might find the time, and 
would do best for himself by finding it. 

1 The European country where the common people hest understand politics 
is Switzerland. That where they talk most about politics is, I think, Greece. 
I remember, for instance, in crossing the channel which divides Cephalonia 
from Ithaca, to have heard the boatmen discuss a recent ministerial crisis at 
Athens, during the whole voyage, with the liveliest interest and apparently 
some knowledge. 



CHA*. i xxx NATIONAL CHARACTERISTICS 280 

Some one will say that an aversion to steady thinking be- 
longs to the average man everywhere. Admitting this, I must 
repeat once more fchat we are now comparing the Americans 
not with average men in other countries, but with the ideal 
citizens of a democracy. We are trying them by the standard 
which the theory of their government assumes. In other coun- 
tries statesmen or philosophers do, and are expected to do, the 
solid thinking for the bulk of the people. Here the people are 
expected to do it for themselves. To say that they do it im- 
perfectly is not to deny them the credit of doing it better than 
a European philosopher might have predicted. 

They are a commercial people, whose point of view is pri- 
marily that of persons accustomed to reckon profit and loss. 
Their impulse is to apply a direct practical test to men and 
measures, to assume that the men who have got on fastest are 
the smartest men, and that a scheme which seems to pay well 
deserves to be supported. Abstract reasonings they dislike, 
subtle reasonings they suspect ; they accept nothing as practical 
which is not plain, downright, apprehensible by an ordinary 
understanding. Although open-minded, so far as willingness 
to listen goes, they are hard to convince, because they have 
really made up their minds on most subjects, having adopted 
the prevailing notions of their locality or party as truths due 
to their own reflection. 

It may seem a contradiction to remark that with this shrewd- 
ness and the sort of hardness it produces, they are nevertheless 
an impressionable people. Yet this is true. It is not their 
intellect, however, that is impressionable, but their imagination 
and emotions, which respond in unexpected ways to appeals 
made on behalf of a cause which seems to have about it some- 
thing noble or pathetic. They are capable of an ideality sur- 
passing that of Englishmen or Frenchmen. 

They are an unsettled people. In no State of the Union is 
the bulk of the population so fixed in its residence as every- 
where in Europe ; in many it is almost nomadic. Except in 
some of the stagnant districts of the South, nobody feels rooted 
to the soil. Here to-day and gone to-morrow, he cannot readily 
contract habits of trustful dependence on his neighbours. Com- 
munity of interest, or of belief in such a cause as temperance, 
or protection for native industry, unites him for a time with 

VOL. II u 



290 PUBLIC OPINION 



others similarly minded, but congenial spirits seldom live long 
enough together to form a school or type of local opinion which 
develops strength and becomes a proselytizing force. Perhaps 
this tends to prevent the growth of variety in opinion. When 
a man arises with some power of original thought in politics, 
he is feeble if isolated, and is depressed by his insignificance, 
whereas if he grows up in favourable soil with sympathetic 
minds around him, whom he can in prolonged intercourse per- 
meate with his ideas, he learns to speak with confidence and 
soars on the wings of his disciples. One who considers the 
variety of conditions under which men live in America may 
certainly find ground for surprise that there should be so few 
independent schools of opinion. 

But even while an unsettled, they are nevertheless an asso- 
ciative, because a sympathetic people. Although the atoms 
are in constant motion, they have a strong attraction for one 
another. Each man catches his neighbour's sentiment more 
quickly and easily than happens with the English. That sort 
of reserve and isolation, that tendency rather to repel than to 
invite confidence, which foreigners attribute to the Englishman, 
though it belongs rather to the upper and middle class than to 
the nation generally, is, though not absent, yet less marked in 
America. 1 It seems to be one of the notes of difference between 
the two branches of the race. In the United States, since each 
man likes to feel that his ideas raise in other minds the same 
emotions as in his own, a sentiment or impulse is rapidly propa- 
gated and quickly conscious of its strength. Add to this the 
aptitude for organization which their history and institutions 
have educed, and one sees how the tendency to form and the 
talent to work combinations for a political or any other object 
has become one of the great features of the country. Hence, 
too, the immense strength of party. It rests not only on interest 
and habit and the sense of its value as a means of working the 
government, but also on the sympathetic element and instinct 
of combination ingrained in the national character. 

1 1 do not mean that Americans are more apt to unbosom themselves to 
strangers, but that they have rather more adaptiveness than the English, and 
are less disposed to stand alone and care nothing for the opinion of others. It is 
worth noticing that Americans travelling abroad seem to get more easily into 
touch with the inhabitants of the country than the English do; nor have they 
the English habit of calling those inhabitants — Frenchmen, for instance, or 
Germans — " the natives." 



chap, i.xxx NATIONAL CITAKACTERISTICS 291 



They are a changeful people. Not fickle, for they are if any- 
thing too tenacious of ideas once adopted, too fast bound by 
party ties, too willing to pardon the errors of a cherished leader. 
But they have what chemists call low specific heat ; they grow 
warm suddenly and cool as suddenly; they are liable to swift 
and vehement outbursts of feeling which rush like wildfire 
across the country, gaining glow, like the wheel of a railway 
car, by the accelerated motion. The very similarity of ideas 
and equality of conditions which makes them hard to convince 
at first makes a conviction once implanted run its course the 
more triumphantly. They seem all to take flame at once, 
because what has told upon one, has told in the same way upon 
all the rest, and the obstructing and separating barriers which 
exist in Europe scarcely exist here. Nowhere is the saying 
so applicable that nothing succeeds like success. The native 
American or so-called Know-nothing party had in two years 
from its foundation become a tremendous force, running, and 
seeming for a time likely to carry, its own presidential candi- 
date. In three years more it was dead without hope of revival. 
Now and then, as for instance in the elections of 1874-75, and 
again in those of 1890, there comes a rush of feeling so sudden 
and tremendous, that the name of Tidal Wave has been invented 
to describe it. 

After this it may seem a paradox to add that the Americans 
are a conservative people. Yet any one who observes the power 
of habit among them, the tenacity with which old institutions 
and usages, legal and theological formulas, have been clung to, 
will admit the fact. A love for what is old and established is 
in their English blood. Moreover, prosperity helps to make 
them conservative. They are satisfied with the world they live 
in, for they have found it a good world, in which they have 
grown rich and can sit under their own vine and fig tree, none 
making them afraid. They are proud of their history and of 
their Constitution, which has come out of the furnace of civil 
war with scarcely the smell of fire upon it. It is little to say 
that they do not seek change for the sake of change, because 
the nations that do this exist only in the fancy of alarmist phi- 
losophers. There are nations, however, whose impatience of 
existing evils, or whose proneness to be allured by visions of a 
brighter future, makes them under-estimate the risk of change, 



PUBLIC OPINION 



nations that will pull up the plant to see whether it has begun 
to strike root. This is not the way of the Americans. They 
are no doubt ready to listen to suggestions from any quarter. 
They do not consider that an institution is justified by its exist- 
ence, but admit everything to be matter for criticism. Their 
keenly competitive spirit and pride in their own ingenuity have 
made them quicker than any other people to adopt and adapt 
inventions : telephones were in use in every little town over 
the West, while in the city of London men were just beginning 
to wonder whether they could be made to pay. I have remarked 
in an earlier chapter that the fondness for trying experiments 
has produced a good deal of hasty legislation, especially in the 
newer States, and that some of it has already been abandoned. 
But these admissions do not affect the main proposition. The ■ 
Americans are at bottom a conservative people, in virtue both 
of the deep instincts of their race and of that practical shrewd- 
ness which recognizes the value of permanence and solidity in 
institutions. They are conservative in their fundamental beliefs, 
in the structure of their governments, in their social and domes- 
tic usages. They are like a tree whose pendulous shoots quiver 
and rustle with the lightest breeze, while its roots enfold the 
rock with a grasp which storms cannot loosen. 



CHAPTER LXXXI 

CLASSES AS INFLUENCING OPINION 

These are some of the characteristics of American opinion in 
general, and may, if I am right in the description given, be dis- 
covered in all classes of the native white population. They 
exist, however, in different measure in different classes, and the 
above account of them needs to be supplemented by some re- 
marks on the habits and tendencies of each class. I do not, of 
course, propose to describe the present opinions of classes, for 
that would require an account of current political questions : 
my aim is merely to state such general class characters as go to 
affect the quality and vigour of opinion. Classes are in Amer- 
ica by no means the same thing as in the greater nations of 
Europe. One must not, for political purposes, divide them as 
upper and lower, richer and poorer, but rather according to the 
occupations they respectively follow and the conditions of life 
that constitute their environment. Their specific characters, 
as a naturalist would say, are less marked even in typical indi- 
viduals than would be the ease in Europe, and are in many 
individuals scarcely recognizable. Nevertheless, the differences 
between one class and another are sufficient to produce dis- 
tinctly traceable influences on the political opinion of the nation, 
and to colour the opinions, perhaps even to determine the polit- 
ical attitude, of the district where a particular class predom- 
inates. 

I begin with the farmers, because they are, if not numerically 
the largest class, at least the class whose importance is most 
widely felt. As a rule they are owners of their land ; and as 
a rule the farms are small, running from forty or fifty up to 
three hundred acres. In a few places, especially in the West, 
great landowners let farms to tenants, and in some parts of the 
South one finds large estates cultivated by small tenants, often 



294 PUBLIC OPINION 



negroes. But far more frequently the owner tills the land and 
the tiller owns it. The proportion of hired labourers to farm- 
ers is therefore very much smaller than in England, partly be- 
cause farms are usually of a size permitting the farmer and his 
family to do much of the work by themselves, partly because 
machinery is more extensively used, especially in the level 
regions of the West. The labourers, or, as they are called, the 
u hired men," do not, taking the country as a whole, form a 
social stratum distinct from the farmers, and there is so little 
distinction in education or rank between them that one may 
practically treat employer and employed as belonging to the 
same class. 

The farmer is a keener and more enterprising man than in 
Europe, with more of that commercial character which one 
observes in Americans, far less anchored to a particular spot, 
and of course subject to no such influences of territorial mag- 
nates as prevail in England, Germany, or Italy. He is so far 
a business man as sometimes to speculate in grain or bacon. 
Yet he is not free from the usual defects of agriculturists. He 
is obstinate, tenacious of his habits, not readily accessible to 
argument. His way of life is plain and simple, and he prides 
himself on its simplicity, holding the class he belongs to to be 
the mainstay of the country, and regarding city-folk and lawyers 
with a mixture of suspicion and jealousy, because he deems 
them as inferior to himself in virtue as they are superior in 
adroitness, and likely to outwit him. Sparing rather than 
stingy in his outlays, and living mainly on the produce of his 
own fields, he has so little ready money that small sums appear 
large to him; and as he fails to see why everybody cannot 
thrive and be happy on $1500 (£300) a year, he thinks that 
figure a sufficient salary for a country or district official, and 
regulates his notions of payment for all other officials, judges 
included, by the same standard. To belong to a party, and 
support it by his vote, seems to him part of a citizen's duty, 
but his interests in national politics are secondary to those he 
feels in agriculturists' questions, particularly in the great war 
against monopolies and capitalists, which the power and in 
some cases the tyranny of the railroad companies has provoked 
in the West. Naturally a grumbler, as are his brethren every- 
where, finding his isolated life dull, and often unable to follow 



CHAP. LXXXi CLASSES AS INFLUENCING OPINION 295 



the causes which depress the price of produce, he is the more 
easily persuaded that his grievances are due to the combina- 
tions of designing speculators. The agricultural newspaper to 
which he subscribes is of course written up to his prejudices, 
and its adulation of the farming class confirms his belief that 
he who makes the wealth of the country is tricked out of his 
proper share in its prosperity. Thus he now and then makes 
desperate attempts to right himself by legislation, lending too 
ready an ear to politicians who promise him redress by measures 
possibly unjust and usually unwise. In his impatience with 
the regular parties, he is apt to vote for those who call them- 
selves a People's or Farmer's party, and who dangle before him 
the hope of getting "cheap money," of reducing the expenses 
of legal proceedings, and of compelling the railroads to carry 
his produce at unremunerative rates. However, after all said 
and done, he is an honest, kindly sort of man, hospitable, relig- 
ious, patriotic : the man whose hard work has made the AVest 
what it is. It is chiefly in the West that one must now look 
for the well-marked type I have tried to draw, yet not always in 
the newer West ; for, in regions like northern Minnesota, Wis- 
consin, and Dakota, the farming population is mainly foreign, 
— Scandinavian and German, — while the native Americans 
occupy themselves with trading and railroad management. 
However, the Scandinavians and Germans acquire in a few 
years many of the characteristics of the native farmer, and 
follow the political lead given by the latter. In the early days 
of the Kepublic, the agriculturists were, especially in the middle 
and the newer parts of the Southern States, the backbone of 
the Democratic party, sturdy supporters of Jefferson, and after- 
wards of Andrew Jackson. When the opposition of North and 
South began to develop itself and population grew up beyond 
the Ohio, the pioneers from New England who settled in that 
country gave their allegiance to the Whig party ; and in the 
famous "log cabin and hard cider" campaign, which carried 
the election of General Harrison as President, that worthy, 
taken as a type of the hardy backwoodsman, made the Western 
farmer for the first time a noble and poetical figure to the 
popular imagination. Nowadays he is less romantic, yet still 
one of the best elements in the country. He stood by the 
Union during the war, and gave his life freely for it. For 



296 PUBLIC OPINION part iv 

many years afterwards his vote carried the Western, and espe- 
cially the North-western States for the Eepublican party, 
which is to him still the party which saved the Union and 
protects the negro. 

The shopkeepers and small manufacturers may be said to 
form a second class, though in the smaller towns, of the West 
especially, their interests are so closely interwoven with those 
of the cultivators, and their way of life so similar, that there is 
little special to remark about them. In the larger towns they 
are sharper and more alive to what is passing than the rural 
population, but their intellectual horizon is not much wider. 
A sort of natural selection carries the more ambitious and 
eager spirits into the towns, for the native American dislikes 
the monotony and isolation of a farm life with its slender pros- 
pect of wealth. To keep a store in a "corner lot" is the ambi- 
tion of the keen-witted lad. The American shopkeeper, it need 
hardly be said, has not the obsequiousness of his European con- 
gener, and is far from fancying that retail trade has anything 
degrading about it. He is apt to take more part in local politics 
than the farmer, but less apt to become a member of a State 
legislature, because he can seldom leave his store as the farmer 
can at certain seasons leave his land. He reads more news- 
papers than the farmer does, and of course learns more from 
current talk. His education has been better, because city 
schools are superior to country ones. He is perhaps not so 
certain to go solid for his party. He has less ground of 
quarrel with the railroads, but if connected with a manufact- 
uring industry, is of course more likely to be interested in 
tariff questions, or, in other words, to be a Protectionist. His 
occupation, however, seldom gives him any direct personal 
motive for supporting one party more than another, and he 
has less of that political timidity which Europeans take to be 
the note of the typical bourgeois than the retail dealer of 
Erance or England. 

The working men, by which I mean those who toil with 
their hands for wages, form a less well-marked class than is 
the case in most parts of Europe, and have not so many sub- 
classes within their own body, though of course the distinction 
between skilled and unskilled labour makes itself felt, and one 
may say, speaking generally, that all unskilled labourers are 



chap, lxxxi CLASSES AS INFLUENCING OPINION 297 

comparatively recent immigrants. The native work-people 
are of course fairly educated; they read the daily newspapers, 
and very likely a weekly religious journal and a monthly 
magazine ; many of them, I think a majority, except in the 
greater cities, belong to a congregation in whose concerns 
they are generally interested. Many are total abstainers. 
Their wives have probably had a longer schooling and read 
more widely than they do themselves. In the smaller towns 
both in New England and the West, and even in some of the 
large cities, such as Philadelphia and Chicago, the better part 
of them own the houses they live in, wooden houses in the 
suburbs with a little verandah and a bit of garden, and thus 
feel themselves to have a stake in the country. Their wives 
and daughters dress with so much taste that on Sunday, or 
when you meet them in the steam cars, you would take them 
for persons in easy circumstances. Until lately, strikes have 
been less frequent than in England, nor, in spite of the troubles 
of recent years, has there hitherto existed any general sense of 
hostility to employers. This is due partly to the better cir- 
cumstances of the workmen, partly to the fact that the passage 
from the one class to the other is easy and frequent. Thus, 
notwithstanding the existence of so-called Labour parties, and 
the recent creation of a vast organization embracing all trades 
over the whole Union (the Knights of Labour), there has 
hitherto been less of collective class feeling and class action 
among workmen than in England, 1 certainly much less than 
in France or Germany. Politicians have of late years begun 
to pose as the special friends of the working man. Although 
in a country where the popular vote is omnipotent there seems 
something absurd in assuming that the working man is weak 
and stands in need of special protection, still the great power 
of capital, the illegitimate means by which that power acts upon 
legislatures, the growing disparities of fortune, and the fact 
that rich men bear less than their due share of taxation, have 
furnished a basis for labour agitation. While contributing as 

1 An experienced American friend writes me: "Although immigrants from 
Great Britain are the best of all our immigrants, English workmen are more 
apt to stir up trouble with their employers than those of any other race. 
Employers say that they fear their English workmen, because they are gener- 
ally suspicious, and disbelieve in the possibility of anything but hostility 
between men and masters." 



298 PUBLIC OPINION 



many recruits to the army of professional politicians as do the 
other classes, the wage-earning class is no more active in 
political work than they are, and furnishes few candidates for 
State or Federal office. Till recently little demand was made 
for the representation of labour as labour either in Congress or 
in State legislatures. There are of course many members 
who have begun life as operatives ; but, so far as I know, very 
few in Congress (though some in the State legislatures) whose 
special function or claim it is to be the advocates of their 
whilom class. Such progress as communistic or socialistic 
movements have made has been chiefly among the immigrants 
from Central Europe, Germans and Slavs, with a much smaller 
contingent of Irish and Italian support, but it is not easy to say 
how great this progress is, for the educated classes had known 
and cared very little about it until the outbreak of Anarchist 
violence at Chicago in 1886 turned all eyes upon a new 
source of peril to civilization One question, however, which 
never fails to excite the workmen, both natives and immigrants, 
is the introduction of cheap foreign labour, and the bringing 
in of workmen to fill the place of strikers. A law passed some 
years ago, in the enforcement of which considerable difficulties 
have arisen, forbids the landing in the country of persons 
coming under a contract to work. In the Pacific States 
the feeling against the Chinese, who take lower wages, often 
one-half of what whites obtain, has not merely been the prime 
factor in Californian State politics, but has induced the Senate 
to ratify treaties and Congress to pass Acts, the last one 
extremely stringent, forbidding their entry. When a shoe 
manufacturer in Massachusetts some years ago brought a num- 
ber of Chinese to replace his own men who had gone out on 
strike, they were threatened with molestation. One trade, how- 
ever, the Chinese are permitted to follow, and have now almost 
monopolized, that of washermen — one cannot say, washer- 
women. Even a small city rarely wants its Chinese laundry. 

It will be gathered from what I have said that there is no 
want of intelligence or acuteness among the working people. 
For political purposes, and setting apart what are specifically 
called labour questions, there is really little difference between 
them and other classes. Their lights are as good as those of 
farmers or traders, their modes of thinking similar. They are, 



chai\ lxxxi CLASSES AS INFLUENCING Ul'lMoN 209 

however, somewhat more excitable and more easily fascinated 
by a vigorous demagogue, as the success of General Benjamin 
F. Butler among the shoemakers of his Massachusetts district 
proved. A powerful speaker with a now of humour and 
audacity will go farther with them than with the more com- 
mercially-minded shopkeeper, or the more stolid agriculturist, 
if indeed one can rail any A.merican stolid. 

The ignorant masses of such great cities as New York, Cincin- 
nati, Chicago, San Francisco, together with the dangerously large 
k - tramp " class, are hardly to be reckoned with the working class 
I have been describing, but answer better to what is called in 
England " the residuum." They are largely Irish and Germans, 
together with Poles. Czechs, and Russians, negroes, Frenchmen, 
Italians, and such native Americans as have fallen from their 
first estate into drink and penury. From the more recent im- 
migrants neither national patriotism nor a sense of civic duty 
can as yet be expected ; the pity is that they have been allowed 
civic power. Political opinions they can hardly be said to pos- 
sess, for they have not had time to learn to know the institu- 
tions of their new country. Yet there are three sentiments 
which guide them, besides adhesion to the party which snapped 
them up when they landed, or which manipulates them by 
leaders of their own race. One of these sentiments is religious 
sympathy. Such of them as are Koman Catholics are ready to 
stand by whichever party may obtain the favour, or be readiest 
to serve the interests, of their church. 1 Another is the protection 
of the liquor traffic. The German loves his beer, and deems a 
land where this most familiar of pleasures is unattainable no 
land of freedom, while the Irishman stands by a trade in which 
his countrymen are largely engaged. And, thirdly, the Ameri- 
can-Irish have been largely swayed by hatred of England, 
which has made them desire to annoy her, and if possible to 
stir up a quarrel between her and the land of their adoption. 
The events of the last few years in England seem, so far as one 
can gather, to have lessened this feeling, on which, of course, 
unscrupulous politicians play, and which is the only remaining 
obstacle to a good understanding between the two countries. 

1 Those of the German immigrants who remain in the great cities instead of 
going West, seem to be mostly Catholics, at least in name; as are also the 
Poles, Czechs, and Slovaks. 



300 PUBLIC OPINION 



The European reader must not suppose that this lowest sec- 
tion of the labouring class is wholly composed of immigrants, 
nor that all of the city-dwelling immigrants belong to it, for 
there are many foreigners whose education and skill place them 
at once on a level with the native American workmen. Its 
importance in politics arises less from its number, which does 
not approach three million of voters all told, 1 than from the 
cohesion, in every great city, of so much of it as is massed 
there. Being comparatively ignorant, and for the most part 
not yet absorbed into the American population, it is not moved 
by the ordinary political forces, nor amenable to the ordinary 
intellectual and moral influences, but "goes solid " as its leaders 
direct it, a fact which gives these leaders exceptional weight, 
and may enable them, when parties are nearly balanced, to 
dictate their terms to statesmen. The disposition to truckle 
to the forces of disorder, and to misuse the power of pardoning 
offenders, which prominent State officials sometimes evince, is 
due to the fear of the so-called " Labour Vote," a vote which 
would be insignificant were the suffrage restricted to persons 
who have resided fifteen or twenty years in the country. 
Nevertheless the immigrants are not so largely answerable 
for the faults of American politics as a stranger might be led 
by the language of many Americans to believe. There is a 
disposition in the United States to use them, and especially 
the Irish, much as the cat is used in the kitchen to account for 
broken plates and food which disappears. The cities have no 
doubt suffered from the immigrant vote. But New York was 
not an Eden before the Irish came ; and would not become an 
Eden were they all to return to green Erin, or move on to arid 
Arizona. 

The capitalist class consists of large merchants, manufac- 
turers, bankers, and railroad men, with a few great land specu- 
lators and directors of trading or carrying companies. How 
much capacity and energy, how much wealth and influence 
there is in this small class everybody knows. It includes the 
best executive ability of the country, and far more ability 

1 The total foreign-born population of the United States, of both sexes, was 
(in 1890) 9,249,547 as against 53,372,703 native born. Of the lower labouring 
class I am describing, a very small part is native American and another con- 
siderable part the American-born sons of recent immigrants. 



chap, lxxxi CLASSES AS INFLUENCING OPINION 301 

than is devoted to the public service of the State. Though 
such persons do not, and hardly could, hold aloof from politics 
— some of them arc indeed zealous party men — their interest 
lies chiefly in using politics for their own purposes, and espe- 
cially in resisting the attacks with which they are threatened, 
sometimes by the popular movement against monopolists and 
great corporations, sometimes by Free Traders anxious to get 
rid of the present high tariff which the manufacturers deem 
essential to the welfare of the country. One-half of the capital- 
ists are occupied in preaching laissez faire as regards railroad 
control, the other half in resisting it in railroad rate matters, in 
order to have their goods carried more cheaply, and in tariff 
matters, in order to protect industries threatened with foreign 
competition. Yet they manage to hold well together. Their 
practical talent does not necessarily imply political insight, any 
more than moral elevation, nor have they generally the taste or 
leisure to think seriously about the needs of the State. In no 
country does one find so many men of eminent capacity for 
business, shrewd, forcible, and daring, who are so uninteresting, 
so intellectually barren, outside the sphere of their business 
knowledge. 

But the wealthy have many ways of influencing opinion and 
the course of events. Some of them own, others find means 
of inspiring, newspapers. Many are liberal supporters of uni- 
versities and colleges, and it is alleged that they occasionally 
discourage the promulgation, by college teachers, of opinions 
they dislike. Presidents of great corporations have armies of 
officials under their orders, who cannot indeed be intimidated, 
for public opinion would resent that, yet may be suffered to 
know what their superior thinks and expects. Cities, districts 
of country, even States or Territories, have much to hope or 
fear from the management of a railway, and good reason to 
conciliate its president. Moreover, as the finance of the 
country is in the hands of these men and every trader is 
affected by financial changes, as they control enormous joint- 
stock enterprises whose shares are held and speculated in by 
hosts of private persons of all ranks, their policy and utter- 
ances are watched with anxious curiosity, and the line they 
take determines the conduct of thousands not directly con- 
nected with them. A word from several of the great financiers 



302 PUBLIC OPINION part iv 

would go a long way with leading statesmen. They are for 
the most part a steadying influence in politics, being opposed 
to sudden changes which might disturb the money market or 
depress trade, and especially opposed to complications with 
foreign States. They are therefore par excellence the peace 
party in America, for though some might like to fish in 
troubled waters, the majority would have far more to lose 
than to gain. 

There remains the group of classes loosely called professional 
men, of whom we may dismiss the physicians as neither bring- 
ing any distinctive element into politics, nor often taking an 
active interest therein, and the journalists, because they have 
been considered in treating of the organs of opinion, and the 
clergy as, inhibited by public feeling from direct immixture in 
political strife. In the anti-slavery and Free Soil struggles, 
ministers of religion were prominent, as they are now in the 
temperance movement, and indeed will always be when a 
distinctly moral issue is placed before the country. But in 
ordinary times, and as regards most questions, they find it 
prudent to rest content with inculcating such sound principles 
as will elevate their hearers' views and lead them to vote for 
the best men. Some few, however, of exceptional zeal or 
unusually well-assured position do appear on political plat- 
forms, and, like the late Mr. Henry Ward Beecher, justify 
their courage by their success. The Roman Catholic prelates 
have great influence with their flocks, but are so sensible of the 
displeasure which its exercise would cause among the native 
Americans as to be guarded in political action, allowing them- 
selves a freer hand in promoting temperance or other moral 
causes. Some of them have been among the most prominent 
figures in the country. 

The lawyers, who are both barristers and attorneys in one, 
there being no such distinction of the profession into two 
branches as exists in Britain and France, are of all classes that 
which has most to do with politics. 1 From their ranks comes 
a large part, probably a half, and apparently the better half, of 
the professional politicians. Those who do not make politics 
a business have usually something to do with it, and even those 
who have little to do with it enjoy opportunities of looking 
1 An account of the American Bar will be found in a later chapter. 



i -ii vr. lxxxi CLASSES AS INFLUENCING OPINION 303 



behind the scenes. The necessities of their practice oblige 
them to study the Federal Constitution and the Constitution 
of their own State, as well as to watch current legislation. 
It is therefore from the legal profession that most of the lead- 
ing statesmen have been drawn, from the days of Patrick 
Henrv. John day, and John Adams down to those of Abraham 
Lincoln and the presidential candidates of our own generation. 
Hence both in great cities and in small ones the lawyer is 
favourably placed for influencing opinion. If he be a man of 
parts, he is apt to be the centre of local opinion, as Lincoln 
was in Springfield, where he practised law and made his repu- 
tation. 1 When in some great community, like New York or 
Boston, a demonstration is organized, some distinguished advo- 
cate, such as Charles O'Conor was in New York, such as Rufus 
Choate was in Boston, is selected for the oration of the day, 
because he has the power of speech, and because everybody 
knows him. Thus the lawyers best deserve to be called the 
leading class, less powerful in proportion to their numbers than 
the capitalists, but more powerful as a whole, since more 
numerous and more locally active. Of course it is only on a 
very few professional questions that they act together as a 
class. Their function is to educate opinion from the technical 
side, and to put things in a telling way before the people. 
Whether the individual lawyer is or is not a better citizen 
than his neighbours, he is likely to be a shrewder one, know- 
ing more about government and public business than most of 
them do, and able at least to perceive the mischiefs of bad 
legislation, which farmers or shopkeepers may faintly realize. 
Thus on the whole the influence of the profession makes for 
good, and though it is often the instrument by which harm is 
wrought, it is more often the means of revealing and defeating 
the tricks of politicians, and of keeping the wholesome princi- 
ples of the Constitution before the eyes of the nation. Its 
action in political life may be compared with its function in 
judicial proceedings. Advocacy is at the service of the just 
and the unjust equally, and sometimes makes the worse appear 
the better cause, yet experience shows that the sifting of evi- 

1 1 have heard townsmen of the great President describe how the front of his 
house used to he a sort of gathering place on summer evenings where his racy 
talk helped to mould the opinion of the place. 



304 PUBLIC OPINION 



dence and the arguing of points of law tend on the whole to 
make justice prevail. 

There remain the men of letters and artists, an extremely 
small class outside a few Eastern cities, and the teachers, espe- 
cially those in colleges and universities. The influence of 
literary men has been more felt through magazines than 
through books, for native authorship suffered severely till 
1891 from the deluge of cheap English reprints. That of the 
teachers tells primarily on their pupils, and indirectly on the 
circles to which those pupils belong, or in which they work 
when they have left college. One is amused by the bitterness 
— affected scorn trying to disguise real fear — with which 
" college professors " are denounced by the professional poli- 
ticians as unpractical, visionary, pharisaical, "kid-gloved," 
"high-toned," "un-American," the fact being that an impulse 
towards the improvement of party methods, civil service re- 
form and tariff reform, has come from the universities, and 
been felt in the increased political activity of the better edu- 
cated youth. The new generation of lawyers, clergymen, and 
journalists, of teachers in the higher schools, and indeed of 
business men also, so far as they receive a university educa- 
tion, have been inspired by the universities, particularly of 
course by the older and more highly developed institutions 
of the Eastern States, with a more serious and earnest view of 
politics than has prevailed among the richer classes since the 
strain of the Civil War passed away. Their horizon has been 
enlarged, their patriotism tempered by a sense of national 
shortcomings, and quickened by a higher ideal of national well- 
being. The confidence that all other prosperity will accom- 
pany material prosperity, the belief that good instincts are 
enough to guide nations through practical difficulties, errors 
which led astray so many worthy people in the last genera- 
tion, are being dispelled, and a juster view of the great 
problems of democratic government presented. The seats of 
learning and education are at present among the most potent 
forces making for progress and the formation of sound opinion 
in the United States, and they increase daily in the excel- 
lence of their teachers no less than in the number of their 
students. 

Before quitting this part of the subject a few general obser- 



chap, lxzxi CLASSES As [NFLUENCING OPINION 305 

rations are needed to supplement or sum up the results of the 
foregoing inquiry. 

There is in the United States no such general opposition as in 
continental Europe of upper and lower classes, richer and poorer 
classes. There is no such jealousy or hostility as one finds in 
France between the bourgeoisie and the operatives. In many 
places class distinctions do exist for the purposes of social inter- 
course. But it is only in the larger cities that the line is sharply 
drawn between those who call themselves gentlemen and those 
others to whom, in talk among themselves, the former set would 
refuse this epithet. 

There is no one class or set of men whose special function 
it is to form and lead opinion. The politicians certainly do 
not. Public opinion leads them. 

Still less is there any governing class. The class whence 
most office-holders come corresponds, as respects education and 
refinement, to what would be called the lower middle class in 
Europe. But office-holders are not governors. 

Such class issues as now exist or have recently existed, 
seldom, or to a small extent, coincide with party issues. They 
are usually toyed with by both parties alike, or if such a ques- 
tion becomes strong enough to be made the basis of a new party, 
that party will usually stand by itself apart from the two old 
and regular organizations. 

In Europe, classes have become factors in politics either 
from interest or from passion. Legislation or administration 
may have pressed hardly on a class, and the class has sought 
to defend and emancipate itself. Or its feelings may have 
been wounded by past injury or insult, and it may seek occa- 
sions for revenge. In America neither cause for the action of 
any class as a class can be said to exist. 1 Hence classes have 
not been prime factors in American politics or in the formation 
of native political opinion. In the main, political questions 
proper have held the first place in a voter's mind, and ques- 

1 Even those who would persuade the working men that legislation is unjust 
to them seldom complain of what it does, but rather of what it omits or does 
not prevent. Any statute which bore harshly on labouring men would in 
America be repealed forthwith. There is at present in some States an agita- 
tion, conducted by " Labour" leaders, to alter the law which restrains what 
>s called coercive " picketing " or molestation in trade disputes, but the laws 
have so far been upheld by the general sense of the community. 

VOL. II X 



306 PUBLIC OPINION 



tions affecting his class the second. 1 The great strikes which 
have of late years convulsed large sections of the country, and 
the "labour" agitation which has accompanied them, have 
brought new elements of class passion and class interest upon 
the scene. But it is possible that these phenomena, which are 
mainly due to the presence of a mass of immigrants, still 
imassimilated, though invested with political power, may prove 
to be transitory. 

The nation is not an aggregate of classes. They exist within 
it, but they do not make it up. You are not struck by their 
political significance as you would be in any European country. 
The people is one people, although it occupies a wider terri- 
tory than any other nation, and is composed of elements from 
many quarters. 

Even education makes less difference between various sec- 
tions of the community than might be expected. One finds 
among the better instructed many of those prejudices and 
fallacies to which the European middle classes are supposed 
peculiarly liable. Among the less instructed of the native 
Americans, on the other hand, there is a comprehension of 
public affairs, a shrewdness of judgment, and a generally 
diffused interest in national welfare, exceeding that of the 
humbler classes in Europe. 

This is a strong point of the nation. This is what has given 
buoyancy to the vessel of the State, and enabled her to carry 
with apparent, though perhaps with diminishing, ease the dead 
weight of ignorance which European emigration continues to 
throw upon her decks. 

1 There are exceptions — e.g. tariff questions are foremost in the mind of 
manufacturers, Chinese questions in those of Californian working men, trans- 
portation questions often in those of farmers. 



CHAPTER LXXXII 

LOCAL TYPES OF OPINION — PAST. WKST, AND SOUTH 

Both the general tendencies and the class tendencies in the 
development of public opinion which I have attempted to 
sketch, may be observed all over the vast area of the Union. 
Sonic, however, are more powerful in one region, others in 
another, while the local needs and feelings of each region tend 
to give a particular colour to its views and direction to its 
aims. One must therefore inquire into and endeavour to 
describe these local differences, so as, by duly allowing for 
them, to correct what has been stated generally with regard to 
the conditions under which opinion is formed, and the ques- 
tions which evoke it. 

In an earlier chapter I have classified the States into five 
groups, the North-Eastern or New England States, the Middle 
States, the North- Western States, the Southern States, and the 
States of the Pacific Slope. For the purposes of our present 
inquiry there is no material difference between the first two 
of these groups, but the differences between the others are 
significant. It is needless to add that there are, of course, 
abundance of local differences within these divisions. Penn- 
sylvania, for instance, is for many purposes unlike Ohio. 
Georgia stands on a higher level than Louisiana. Nebraska 
is more raw than Illinois. To go into these minor points of 
divergence would involve a tedious discussion, and perhaps 
confuse the reader after all, so he must be asked to under- 
stand that this chapter endeavours to present only the general 
aspect which opinion wears in each section of the country, and 
that what is said of a section generally, is not meant to be 
taken as equally applicable to every State within it. 

In the Eastern States the predominant influence is that of 
capitalists, manufacturers, merchants — in a word, of the com- 

307 



308 PUBLIC OPINION 



mercial classes. The East finds the capital for great under- 
takings all over the country, particularly for the making of 
railroads, the stock of which is chiefly held by Eastern in- 
vestors, and the presidents whereof often have their central 
office in New York, Boston, or Philadelphia, though the line 
may traverse the Western or Southern States. The East also 
conducts the gigantic trade with Europe. It ships the grain 
and the cattle, the pork and the petroleum, it " finances " the 
shipping of much of the cotton, it receives nearly all the manu- 
factured goods that Europe sends, as well as the emigrants 
from Britain, Germany, and Scandinavia. 1 The arms of its 
great bankers and merchants stretch over the whole Union, 
making those commercial influences which rule in their own 
seat potent everywhere. Eastern opinion is therefore the most 
quickly and delicately sensitive to financial movements and 
European influences, as well as the most firmly bound to a 
pacific policy. As in the beginning of the century, trade inter- 
ests made Massachusetts and Connecticut anxious to avoid a 
breach with England, to whose ports their vessels plied, so 
now, though the shipping which enters Eastern ports is chiefly 
European (British, Norwegian, German, French), the mercan- 
tile connections of American and European merchants and 
financiers are so close that an alarm of war might produce 
widespread disaster. 

The East is also, being the oldest, the best educated and most 
intelligent quarter of the country. 2 Not only does it contain 
more men of high culture, but the average of knowledge 
and thought (excluding the mob of the great cities and some 
backward districts in the hills of Pennsylvania) is higher than 
elsewhere. Its literary men and eminent teachers labour for 
the whole country, and its cities, which show the lowest ele- 
ment of the population in their rabble, show also the largest 
number of men of light and leading in all professions. Al- 
though very able newspapers are published in the West as 
well as in the East, still the tone of Eastern political discus- 
sion is more generally dignified and serious than in the rest of 

1 Some Germans and Italians enter by New Orleans or the ports of Texas. 

2 The percentage of persons able to read and write is as high in some of the 
Western States, snch as Iowa and Nebraska, as in New England, but this may 
be because the Irish and Freuch Canadians depress the level of New England. 



CHAP, lxxxu LOCAL TYPES OF OPINION 309 



the Union. The influences of Europe, which, of course, play 
first and chiefly upon the East, are, so far as they affect man- 
ners ami morality, by no means an unmixed good. But in the 
realm of thought Europe and its criticism are a stimulative 
force, which corrects any undue appreciation of national vir- 
tues, and helps forward sound views in economics and history. 
The leisured and well-read class to be found in some Eastern 
cities is as cosmopolitan in tone as can be found anywhere in 
the world, yet has not lost the piquancy of its native soil. Its 
thought appropriates what is fresh and sound in the literature 
or scientific work of Germany, England, and France more 
readily than any of those countries seems to learn from each 
of the others. These causes, added to the fact that the per- 
versions of party government have been unusually gross among 
the irresponsible masses that crowd these very cities, has 
roused a more strenuous opposition to the so-called " machine " 
than in other parts of the country. The Eastern voter is less 
bound to his party, more accustomed to think for himself, and 
to look for light, when he feels his own knowledge defective, 
to capable publicists. When, either in Federal or State or city 
politics, an independent party arises, repudiating the bad 
nominations of one or both of the regular organizations, it is 
here that it finds its leaders and the greatest part of its sup- 
port. There is also in New England a good deal left of the 
spirit of Puritanism, cold and keen as glacier air, with its high 
standard of public duty and private honour, its disposition to 
apply the maxims of religion to the conduct of life, its sense, 
much needed in this tender-hearted country, that there are 
times when Agag must be hewn in pieces before the Lord in 
Gilgal. If the people of New England and rural New York 
had been left unpolluted by the turbid flood of foreign immi- 
gration, they would be the fittest of any in the world for a 
democratic government. Evils there would still be, as in all 
governments, but incomparably less grave than those which 
now tax the patriotism of the men who from these States hold 
up the banner of reform for the whole Union. 

It is impossible to draw a line between the East and the 
West, because the boundary is always moving westward. 
Thirty years ago Ohio was typically western in character, now 
it has as much in common with Connecticut or New York as 



310 PUBLIC OPINION 



with Kansas or Minnesota. The most distinctive elements in 
the Western States are the farming class, which here attains 
its greatest strength, and the masses of newly-arrived Ger- 
mans and Scandinavians, who fill whole districts, often out- 
numbering the native Americans. These immigrants contribute 
so much more largely to the voting than to the thinking power 
of the newer States, that their presence is one of the main 
reasons why the political power of the West exceeds its polit- 
ical capacity. They are honest, industrious, and worthy peo- 
ple, the parents of good American citizens, useful men to clear 
the woods and break up the prairie, but they know so little of 
the institutions of the country, and often so little of its lan- 
guage, that they are as clay in the hands of their leaders, 
sometimes Americans, sometimes men of their own race. The 
predominance of the agricultural interest has the faults and 
merits indicated in the account already given of the farming 
class. Western opinion is politically unenlightened, and not 
anxious to be enlightened. It dislikes theory, and holds the 
practical man to be the man who, while discerning keenly his 
own interest, discerns nothing else beyond the end of his nose. 
It goes heartily into a party fight, despising Independents, Mug- 
wumps, and "bolters" of all sorts. It has boundless confidence 
in the future of the country, of the West in particular, of its 
own State above all, caring not much for what the East thinks, 
and still less for the judgment of Europe. It feels sure every- 
thing will come right, and thinks "cheap transportation" to 
be the one thing needful. Eeckless in enterprises, it is stingy 
in paying its officials, judges included: good-natured and in- 
dulgent to a fault, it is nevertheless displeased to hear that 
its senator lives in luxury at Washington. Its townsfolk are 
so much occupied in pushing their towns, between whose news- 
papers there is a furious rivalry — they hate one another as 
Athens hated Thebes, or Florence Pisa — its rich men in opening 
up railroads, its farmers in their household and field toil, 
labour being scarce and dear, that politics are left to the poli- 
ticians, who, however, are not the worst specimens of their 
class. When election time comes the Western man shouts 
with all his lungs, and should ever another war break out, the 
West would again send down its stout-hearted large-limbed 
regiments. While things are as they are now, you cannot get 



chap. Lzxxii LOCAL TYPES OF OPINION -111 

the average Western man bo Listen to philosophical reasonings, 
or trouble himself about coming dangers. To arrest him you 

must touch his sentiment, and at this moment the questions 
whose solution presses are questions which sentiment goes no 
way to solve. » 

The West may be called the most distinctively American pari 
of America, because the points in which it differs from the 
East are the points in which America as a whole differs from 
Europe. But the character of its population differs in differ- 
ent regions, according to the parts of the country from which 
the early settlers came. Now the settlers have generally 
moved along parallels of latitude, and we have therefore 
the curious result that the characteristics of the older States 
have propagated themselves westward in parallel lines, so 
that he who travels from the Atlantic to the Rocky Moun- 
tains will find fewer differences to note than he who, starting 
from Texas, travels north to Manitoba. Thus northern Ohio 
was filled from New England and western New York, and in 
its turn colonized northern Illinois, Michigan, and much of 
the farther North-west. Southern Ohio and Illinois, together 
with great part of Indiana, were peopled from Virginia and 
Kentucky, and the different quality of these early settlers 
is still traceable. Missouri was colonized from the Slave States, 
and retains the taint to this day. 1 Kansas, however, though it 
lies west of Missouri, received in the days of the Free Soil 
struggle many Puritan immigrants from the Free States, and 
bears, though it is often called the State of " cranks," a some- 
what higher stamp than its neighbour. The Scandinavians 
are chiefly in Wisconsin and Minnesota, the Germans numer- 
ous in Iowa also, and indeed all over these newer States, in- 
cluding Texas. So far back as 1870 Milwaukee was a German 
rather than an American city ; 2 and in 1890 it appeared that 
there were townships in Wisconsin in which the tax lists had 

1 In Oregon there is a district which was settled hy people from Kentucky 
and Tennessee, rather exceptionally, for the outflow of these States seldom 
moved so far to the north. The descendants of these immigrants are now 
less prosperous and enterprising than are those of the men who came from 
the Free States. 

2 Asking my way ahout the streets, I found German more helpful than 
English. In the same year it was noticeable that in Wisconsin the paper 
money (then alone in use) had got a marked smell from the use of skins and 
furs by the newly-arrived Swedes and Norwegians. 



312 PUBLIC OPINION 



for years been kept in German, and counties in which a paid 
interpreter was required to enable the business of the courts to 
be transacted. The Territories which lie farther to the South- 
west have no vote in presidential elections, and only a voteless 
delegate each in Congress, yet over them the network of party 
organization has been spread, though, of course, the sparser 
population feeds a feebler political life. 

The Pacific Slope, as its inhabitants call it, geographically 
includes the States of Oregon and Washington, but Oregon 
and Washington resemble the North-western States in so many 
respects that they may better be classed therewith. Cali- 
fornia and Nevada on the other hand are distinctly peculiar. 
They are more Western than the States I have just been de- 
scribing, with the characteristics of those States intensified 
and some new features added. They are cut off by deserts and 
barren mountain ranges from the agricultural part of the 
Mississippi basin, nor is population ever likely to become 
really continuous across this wilderness. Mining industries 
play a larger part in them than in any other State, except 
Colorado. Their inhabitants are unsettled and fluctuating, 
highly speculative, as one may expect those who mine and 
gamble in mining stocks to be, occupied with questions of 
their own, and comparatively indifferent to those which inter- 
est the rest of the country. Of these questions, one is Chinese 
immigration, another the management of the great Central and 
Southern Pacific railroad system, which is accused of oppres- 
sing the trade and industries of California ; a third, the recon- 
cilement of the claims of miners and agriculturists to the 
waters of the rivers, which each set seeks to appropriate, and 
which the former have asserted the right to foul. But as the 
recent history of California deserves a chapter to itself, it is 
enough to observe that public opinion is here, in spite of the 
proverbial shrewdness, energy, and hardihood of the men of 
the Pacific, more fitful and gusty, less amenable to the voice 
of sober reason, and less deferential to the authority of states- 
men, or even of party than anywhere else in the Union. "In- 
terests," such as those of a great mine-owning group, or of a 
railroad, are immensely powerful, and the reactions against 
them not less so. 

Of the South, the solid South, as it is often called, because 



chap. Lxxxii LOCAL TYPES OF OPINION 813 



its presidential vote is now east entirely for the Democrats, 
some account will be found in two later chapters, one sketching 
its history since the war ended, the other describing the condi- 
tion of the negro and his relations to the whites. Here, there- 
fore, I will speak only of the general character of political 
opinion and action in the former Slave States. The phenomena 
they present are unexampled. Equality before the law is 
absolute and perfect, being secured by the Federal Constitution. 
Yet the political subjection of a large part (in some States a 
majority) of the population is no less complete. 

There are three orders of men in the South. 

The first is the upper or educated class, including the chil- 
dren of the planting aristocracy which ruled before the Civil 
War, together with the Northern men who have since 1865 
settled in the towns for the purposes of trade or manufacture. 
Of this order more than nine-tenths — those in fact who have 
survived from the old aristocracy, together with those who 
have since risen from the humbler class, and with most of the 
newer arrivals — belong to the Democratic party. Along with 
the high spirit and self-confidence which are proper to a ruling- 
race, these Southern men have shown an enlargement of view 
and an aptitude for grasping decided and continuous lines of 
policy, in fact a turn for statesmanship as contrasted with 
mere politics, which was less common in the North, because 
less favoured by the conditions under which ambition has in 
the North to push its way. The Southern man who enters 
public life has had a more assured position than his rival from 
a Northern State, because he represented the opinion of a united 
body w r ho stood by him, regarding him as their champion, and 
who expected from him less subservience to their instructions. 
He did not need to court so assiduously the breath of popular 
favour. He was not more educated or intelligent : and had 
lived in a less stimulating atmosphere. But he had courage 
and a clear vision of his objects, the two gifts essential for 
a statesman; while the united popular impulse behind him 
supplied a sort of second patriotism. The element of gain 
entered somewhat less into Southern politics, partly because 
the country is poor : and though the South begins to be com- 
mercialized, the sensitiveness on the ^ point of honour" and a 
flavour of punctiliousness in manners, recall the olden time. 



314 PUBLIC OPINION 



Opinion in the Slave States before the war, in spite of the 
divisions between Democrats and Whigs, was generally bold, 
definite, and consistent, because based on a few doctrines. It 
was the opinion of a small class who were largely occupied 
with public affairs, and fond of debating them upon first prin- 
ciples and the words of the Federal Constitution. It has 
preserved this quality while losing its old fierceness and better 
recognizing the conditions under which it must work in a Fed- 
eral republic. On the other hand, the extreme strength of 
party feeling, due to the extreme sensitiveness regarding the 
negro, has prevented the growth of independent opinion, and 
of the tendency which in the North is called Mugwumpism. 
And although the leading statesmen are not inferior to those 
whom the North sends to Washington, the total number of 
thoughtful and enlightened men is, in proportion to the popu- 
lation, smaller than in the North-east, smaller even than in 
such Western States as Illinois or Ohio. 

I have used the past tense in describing these phenomena, 
because the South is changing, and the process is now scarcely 
swifter in the West than in those parts of Tennessee, North 
Carolina, Georgia, and Alabama where the coal and iron de- 
posits are being opened up. Most parts, however, are still 
thinly settled by whites, and so poor that a traveller finds it 
hard to understand how, when still poorer, the people managed 
to resist for four years the armies of the wealthy and populous 
North. There is therefore less eagerness and hopefulness than 
in the West, less searching discussion and elaborate organiza- 
tion than in the East, less of everything that is character- 
istically democratic. The Machine has been brought to no 
such terrible perfection as in the Northern States, because the 
need of it is not felt where one party is sure of victory, and 
because talent or social position usually designated the men to 
be selected as candidates, or the men whose voice would deter- 
mine the selection. Of late years, however, the aristocratic 
element in Southern politics has grown weaker, and merits 
that were deemed characteristic of Southern statesmen are 
more rarely seen. 

The second order consists of those who used to be called the 
Mean Whites. Their condition strengthens the impression of 
half civilization which the rural districts of the South produce 



OHAP.LXxxu LOCAL ITPES OF OPINION 315 



upon the traveller, and which oomes painfully home to him in 
the badness of the inns. While slavery lasted, these whites 
were, in the lowlands of the planting States, a wretched, be- 
cause economically superfluous; class. There was no room for 
them as labourers, since the slaves did the work on the planta- 
tions ; they had not the money to purchase land and machin- 
ery for themselves, nor the spirit to push their w r ay in the 
towns, while the system of large slave-worked properties made, 
as the latifundia did long ago in Italy, the cultivation of small 
farms hopeless, and the existence of a thriving free peasantry 
impossible. The planters disliked this class and kept them 
off their estates as much as possible ; the slaves despised them, 
and called them "poor white trash." In South Carolina and 
the Gulf States, they picked up a wretched livelihood by 
raising some vegetables near their huts, and killing the wild 
creatures of the woods, while a few hung round the great 
houses to look out for a stray job. Shiftless, ignorant, improvi- 
dent, with no aims in the present nor hopes for the future, 
citizens in nothing but the possession of votes, they were a 
standing reproach to the system that produced them, and the 
most convincing proof of its economic as well as moral failure. 
In the northerly Slave States, they were better off, and in the 
highlands of Western Virginia, Kentucky, Tennessee, and North 
Carolina, where there were few or no slaves, they had, along 
with much rudeness and ignorance, the virtues of simple moun- 
taineers. Their progress since the war has been marked, both 
near the mining and manufacturing towns, w r hich give work 
and furnish markets, and in the cotton-bearing uplands, wdiere 
many have acquired farms and prospered as tillers of the soil. 
Everywhere, however, they remain, in point of education and 
enlightenment, behind the small farmers or artisans of the 
North and West. Before the war they followed, as a matter 
of course (except in the mountains, where the conditions were 
different), the lead of the planting class, not more out of defer- 
ence to it than from aversion to the negroes. The less a man 
had to be proud of, the more proud was he of his colour. 
Since the war, they have been no less anxious than their richer 
neighbours to exclude the negroes from any share in the gov- 
ernment. But they are no longer mere followers. They have 
begun to think and act for themselves ; and, though one of the 



310 PUBLIC OPINION 



first signs of independence has been shown in the acceptance 
of such impracticable projects as those advocated by the 
Farmers' Alliance, they have become a body which has views, 
and with whose views it is necessary to reckon. 

The negroes constitute about one-third of the population of 
the old Slave States, and in three States they are in a majority. 
Though their presence is the dominant factor in Southern 
politics, they cannot be said to form or influence opinion ; and 
it is not their votes, but the efforts made to prevent them from 
voting that influence the course of events. I reserve for a 
special chapter an account of their singular position. 

Remembering that of the whole population of the Union, 
nearly one-third is in the Southern States, and that the major- 
ity of that one-third, viz. the lower part of the poor whites 
and nearly all the negroes (jnore than one-sixth of the sixty- 
six millions), has no political knowledge or capacity, nothing 
that can be called rational opinion, it will be seen how far the 
inhabitants of the United States are from being a democracy 
enlightened through and through. If one part of the people 
is as educated and capable as that of Switzerland, another is 
as ignorant and politically untrained as that of Russia. 

Of the four divisions of the country above described, the 
West (including Oregon and Washington) has already the 
largest vote, and since it grows faster than the others, will 
soon be indisputably predominant. But as it grows, it loses 
some of its distinctive features, becoming more like the East 
and falling more and more under Eastern influences, both intel- 
lectual and financial. It must not therefore be supposed that 
what is now typically Western opinion will be the reigning 
opinion of the future. The Pacific States will in time be 
drawn closer to those of the Mississippi Valley, losing some- 
thing of such specific quality as they still possess ; and centres 
of literary activity, such as now exist almost exclusively in 
the Atlantic States, will be scattered over the whole country. 
Opinion will therefore be more homogeneous, or at least less 
local, in the future than it has been in the past : even as now 
it is less determined by local and State influences than it was 
in the earlier days of the Republic. 



CHAPTER LXXXIII 

THE ACTION OF PUBLIC OPINION 

The last few chapters have attempted to explain what are 
the conditions under which opinion is formed in America, 
what national qualities it reflects, how it is affected by class 
interests or local circumstances, as well as through what 
organs it manifests itself. We must now inquire how it acts, 
and for this purpose try to answer three questions. 

By whom is public opinion formed ? i.e. by the few or by 
the many ? 

How does it seek to grasp and use the legal machinery 
which the Constitutions (Federal and State) provide ? 

What means has it of influencing the conduct of affairs 
otherwise than through the regular legal machinery ? 

It may serve to illustrate the phenomena which mark the 
growth of opinion in America if we compare them with those 
of some European country. As Britain is the country in 
which public opinion has been longest and with least inter- 
ruption installed in power, and in which the mass of the people 
are more largely than elsewhere interested in public affairs, 1 
Britain supplies the fittest materials for a comparison. 

In Britain political supremacy belongs to the householder 
voters, who number (over the whole United Kingdom) 6,161,000, 
being rather less than two-thirds of the adult male population. 
Public opinion ought in theory to reside in them. Prac- 
tically, however, as everybody knows, most of them have 
little that can be called political opinion. It is the creation 
and possession of a much smaller number. 

An analysis of public opinion in Britain will distinguish 
three sets of persons — I do not call them classes, for they do 

1 Always excepting Switzerland, Norway, and Greece, whose conditions 
are, however, ton dissimilar from those of America to make a comparison 
profitable. 

317 



318 PUBLIC OPINION 



not coincide with social grades — those who make opinion, 
those who receive and hold opinion, those who have no opin- 
ions at all. 

The first set consists of practical politicians (i.e. a certain 
number of members of the Lower House and a much smaller 
fraction of the Upper, together with men taking an active 
part in local party organizations), journalists and other public 
writers, and a small fringe of other persons, chiefly profes- 
sional men, who think and talk constantly about public affairs. 
Within this set of men, who are to be counted by hundreds 
rather than by thousands, it is the chiefs of the great parties 
who have the main share in starting opinion, the journalists 
in propagating it. Debates in Parliament do something, and 
the speeches which custom, recent, but strong and increasing, 
requires the leaders to deliver up and down the country, and 
which are of course reported, replace Parliament when it is 
not sitting. The function of the dozen best thinkers and talk- 
ers in each party is now not merely, as in the last generation, 
to know and manage Parliament, to watch foreign affairs, and 
prepare schemes of domestic legislation, but to inspire, instruct, 
stimulate, and attach the outside public. So too members of 
the Houses of Parliament find that the chief utility of their 
position lies in its enabling them to understand the actualities 
of politics better than they could otherwise do, and to gain a 
hearing outside for what they may have to say to their fellow- 
countrymen. This small set of persons constitutes what may 
be called the working staff of the laboratory; it is among them, 
by the reciprocal action and reaction on one another of the 
chiefs, the followers, and the press, that opinion receives its 
first shape. 1 

1 Small as it may still seem to an American, the class that forms public 
opinion has been steadily widening in England. Last century it consisted 
only of the then ruling class, — the great families, — the Houses of Parlia- 
ment, a certain number of lawyers, with a very few journalists and clergymen, 
and a sort of fringe of educated men and monied men brought into relations 
with the rulers. This was the England which allowed George III. to alienate 
and lose the North American Colonies. Even then, no doubt, the mass of 
voters outside (extremely small when compared with the numbers of to-day) 
counted for something, for there was always a possibility of their interfering 
when some feeling spread among them, one or other of the parties being ready 
to stimulate and use such a feeling, and a general election enabling it to find 
expression in the counties and in a few of the boroughs. When the Reform 



chat, i xxxiii THF. ACTION OF PUBLIC OPINION 310 

The second sot of persons consists of those who watch public 
affairs with a certain measure of interest. When an impor- 
tant question avisos, they look at the debates in Parliament or 
some platform deliverance by a leader, and they have at all 
times a notion of what is passing in the political world. They 
now and then attend a public meeting. They are not uni- 
versally, but now pretty largely, enrolled as members of some 
political association. When an election arrives they go to 
vote of their own accord. They talk over politics after dinner 
or coming into town by a suburban train. The proportion of 
such persons is larger in the professional classes (and es- 
pecially among the lawyers) than in the mercantile, larger in 
the upper mercantile than among the working men of the 
towns, larger among skilled than unskilled artisans, larger in 
the North than in the South, larger among the town workmen 
than among the newly enfranchised agricultural labourers. It 
varies in different parts of the country, and is perhaps rela- 
tively smaller in London than in other cities. If still less 
than a third of the total number of voters, it is nevertheless 
an increasing proportion. 1 

The third set includes all the rest of the voters. Though 
they possess political power, and are better pleased to have 
it, they do not really care about it — that is to say, politics 
occupy no appreciable space in their thoughts and interests. 
Some of them vote at elections because they consider them- 
selves to belong to a party, or fancy that on a given occasion 
they have more to expect from the one party than from the 
other ; or because they are brought up on election day by some 
one who can influence them. The number who vote tends to 
increase with the importation of party into municipal and 
other local contests ; and from the same cause some now en- 
rol themselves in party associations. Others will not take the 
trouble to go to the polls. No one, except on the stump, can 

Bill of 1832 enlarged the suffrage, and almost extinguished the pocket horoughs 
what had heen the ruling class sank into heing merely the office-holding class ; 
and now, though it dies hard, its monopoly of office is departing as its monopoly 
of sitting in Parliament did in 18.32. 

1 In Chapter LVII., anir, I have attempted to distinguish an Inner and 
Outer Circle of persons who take an active part in political work. AVIiat I 
here call the rirst or opinion-mrtkiim set would lie almost wholly within the 
Inner Circle, and would be much smaller than that circle. 



320 PUBLIC OPINION 



attribute independent political thinking to this mass of per- 
sons, because their knowledge and interest, though growing 
under the influence of the privileges they enjoy, are still slight. 
Many have not even political prepossessions, and will stare or 
smile when asked to which party they belong. They count 
for little except at elections, and then chiefly as instruments 
to be used by others. So far as the formation or exercise of 
opinion goes, they may be left out of sight. 1 

It is obviously impossible to draw a sharp line between the 
second set and the third, or to estimate their relative numbers, 
because when politics are dull many persons subside into in- 
difference whom the advent of a crisis may again arouse. And 
of course there are plenty of people in the second set who, 
though interested in politics, have no real knowledge or judg- 
ment about them. Such considerations, however, do not touch 
the point of the present analysis, which is to distinguish be- 
tween the citizens who originate opinion (the first set), those 
who hold and somewhat modify it (the second set), and those 
who are rather to be deemed, and even that only if they can 
be brought to the poll, mere ballot-markers. The first set do 
the thinking; they scatter forth the ideas and arguments. 
The second set receive and test what is set before them. What 
their feeling or judgment approves they accept and give effect 
to by their votes ; what they dislike or suspect is refused and 
falls dead, or possibly sets them the other way. The measure 
of the worth of a view or proposal — I do not mean its intrin- 
sic worth but its power of pleasing the nation — is, however, 
not merely the breadth of the support it obtains, but also 
the zeal which it inspires in those who adopt it. Although 
persons in the second set usually belong to one or other 

1 What is said here cannot of course be proved, but will commend itself to 
any one who, knowing a large constituency, compares the number of persons 
who attend public meetings at an election and can be trusted to come of 
themselves to the polls with the total number of voters on the lists. In the 
London constituencies I doubt if more than 10 per ceut of the nominal voting 
strength show their interest in either of these ways. From 25 to 40 per cent 
do not even vote. The voting proportion is larger in the north and west 
midland towns and in Scotland. In the old days of small constituencies, when 
it might have been supposed that the restriction of the franchise would have 
made it more prized, inexperienced candidates were always struck by the 
small percentage, out of those whom they personally canvassed, who seemed 
to care about politics, or even deemed themselves steady party men. 



chap, lxxxiii THE ACTION OF PUBLIC OPINION 82] 

part}', 1 and are therefore prima facie disposed to accept whatever 
comes from their party leaders, yet the degree of cordiality 
with which they accept indicates to a leader how their minds 
are moving, and becomes an element in his future calculations. 
Thus the second set, although receptive rather than creative, 
has an important function in moulding opinion, and giving it 
the shape and colour it finally takes when it has crystallized 
under the influence of a party struggle. The third set can 
scarcely be called a factor in the formation of opinion, except 
in so far as one particular proposal or cry may prove more 
attractive to it than another. It has some few fixed ideas or 
prejudices which a statesman must bear in mind, but in the 
main it is passive, consisting of persons who either follow the 
lead of members of the first or second sets, or who are too in- 
different to move at all. 

The United States present different phenomena. There 
what I have called the first set is extremely small. The third 
set is relatively smaller than in England, and but for the 
recent immigrants and the negroes would be insignificant. It 
is in the second set that opinion is formed as well as tested, 
created as well as moulded. Political light and heat do not 
radiate out from a centre as in England. They are diffused 
all through the atmosphere, and are little more intense in the 
inner sphere of practical politicians than elsewhere. The ordi- 
nary citizens are interested in politics, and watch them with 
intelligence, the same kind of intelligence (though a smaller 
quantity of it) as they apply to their own business. They are 
forced by incessant elections to take a more active part in 
public affairs than is taken by any European people. They 
think their own competence equal to that of their representa- 
tives and office-bearers; and they are not far wrong. They 
do not therefore look up to their statesmen for guidance, but 
look around to one another, carrying to its extreme the prin- 
ciple that in the multitude of counsellors there is wisdom. 

In America, therefore, opinion is not made but grows. Of 
course it must begin somewhere ; but it is often hard to say 

1 The increasingly party character of municipal contest tends to draw an 
always larger number of persons from the third class into the second, because 
being dragged up to vote at a municipal election they acquire, if not opinions, 
at least the habit of party action and of repeating party cries. 

VOL. II y 



322 PUBLIC OPINION 



where or how. As there are in the country a vast number of 
minds similar in their knowledge, beliefs, and attitude, with 
few exceptionally powerful minds applying themselves to poli- 
tics, it is natural that the same idea should often occur to 
several or many persons at the same time, that each event as 
it occurs should produce the same impression and evoke the 
same comments over a wide area. When everybody desires to 
agree with the majority, and values such accord more highly 
than the credit of originality, this tendency is all the stronger. 
An idea once launched, or a view on some current question pro- 
pounded, flies everywhere on the wings of a press eager for 
novelties. Publicity is the easiest thing in the world to ob- 
tain ; but as it is attainable by all notions, phrases, and projects, 
wise and foolish alike, the struggle for existence — that is to 
say, for public attention — is severe. 

I do not, of course, deny that here, as everywhere else in the 
world, some one person or group must make a beginning, but 
seek to point out that, whereas in Europe it is patent who does 
make the beginning, in America a view often seems to arise 
spontaneously, and to be the work of many rather than of few. 
The individual counts for less, the mass counts for more. In 
propagating a doctrine not hitherto advocated by any party, the 
methods used are similar to those of England. A central 
society is formed, branch societies spring up over the country, 
a journal (perhaps several journals) is started, and if the move- 
ment thrives, an annual convention of its supporters is held, 
at which speeches are made and resolutions adopted. If any 
striking personality is connected with the movement as a leader, 
as Garrison was with Abolitionism, he cannot but become a 
sort of figure-head. Yet it happens more rarely in America 
than in England that an individual leader gives its character 
to a movement, partly because new movements less often begin 
among, or are taken up by, persons already known as practical 
politicians. 

As regards opinion on the main questions of the hour, such 
as the extension of slavery long was, and civil service reform, 
the currency, the tariff, are now, it rises and falls, much as in 
any other country, under the influence of events which seem to 
make for one or the other of the contending views. There is 
this difference between America and Europe, that in the for- 



chap, i.xxxiii THE A.CTTON OF PUBLIC OPINION 323 

mer speeches seem to influence the average citizen less, because 
he is more apt to do his own thinking; newspaper invective 
because he is used to it; current events rather more, 
because he is better informed of them. Party spirit is probably 
no stronger in America than in England, so far as a man's 
thinking and talking go, but it tells more upon him when he 
conies to vote. 

An illustration of what has been said may be found in the 
fact that the proportion of persons who actually vote at an 
election to those whose names appear on the voting list is 
larger in America than in Europe. In some English constitu- 
encies this percentage does not exceed 60 per cent, though at 
exciting moments it is larger than this, taking the country as a 
whole. At the general election of 1892 it reached 77 per cent. 
In America SO per cent may be a fair average in presidential 
elections, which call out the heaviest vote, and in 1880 and 
1892 this proportion was exceeded. Something may be 
ascribed to the more elaborate local organization of American 
parties; but against this ought to be set the fact that the 
English voting mass includes not quite two-thirds, the Ameri- 
can nearly the whole, of the adult male population, and that 
the English voters are the more solid and well-to-do part of 
the population. 

Is there, then, in the United States, no inner sphere of 
thinkers, writers, and speakers, corresponding to what we 
have called the " first set " in England ? 

There are individual men corresponding to individuals in 
that English set, and probably quite as numerous. There are 
journalists of great ability, there are a few literary men, 
clergymen and teachers, a good many lawyers, some business 
men, some few politicians. But they are isolated and unor- 
ganized, and do not constitute a class. Most of them are pri- 
marily occupied with their own avocations, and have only 
spare time to give to political thinking or writing. They are 
mostly resident in or near the Eastern and one or two of the 
largest Western cities, and through many large tracts of coun- 
try scarce any are to be found. In England the profession of 
opinion-making and leading is the work of specialists ; in 
America, except as regards the few journalists and statesmen 
aforesaid, of amateurs. As the books of amateurs have merits 



324 PUBLIC OPINION 



which those of professional authors are apt to want, so some- 
thing is gained by the absence of the professional element 
from American political opinion. But that which these ama- 
teurs produce is less coherent, less abundant, and less promptly 
effective upon the mass of the citizens than the corresponding 
English product. In fact, the individual Americans whom we 
are considering can (except the journalists and statesmen 
aforesaid) be distinguished from the mass of citizens only by 
their superior intellectual competence and their keener interest 
in public affairs. (Gf the " professional politicians " there is 
no question, because it is in the getting and keeping of places 
that these gentlemen are occupied.) We may therefore repeat 
the proposition, that in America opinion does not originate in 
a particular class, but grows up in the nation at large, though, 
of course, there are leading minds in the nation who have more 
to do with its formation than the run of their fellow-citizens. A 
good instance of the power such men may exercise is afforded 
by the success of the civil service reform movement, which 
began among a few enlightened citizens in the Eastern States, 
who by degrees leavened, or were thought to be leavening, the 
minds of their fellows to such an extent that Congress was 
forced, sorely against the grain, to bring in and pass the appro- 
priate legislation. Another instance may be found in the swift 
success obtained by those who advocated the secret or " Aus- 
tralian " ballot, a measure not specially desired by the " poli- 
ticians." 

But the most striking illustration is the recent victory of 
the agitation for international copyright. A few literary 
men, seconded after a while by a very few publishers, had for 
weary years maintained what seemed a hopeless struggle for 
the extension to foreign authors of the right to acquire copy- 
right in America, theretofore reserved to citizens only. These 
men were at first ridiculed. People asked how they could expect 
that the nation, whose chief reading was in European books, 
sold very cheap because the author received no profit, would 
raise the price of these books against itself ? Xeither Re- 
publicans nor Democrats had anything to gain by passing the 
bill, and Congress, by large majorities, rejected or refused to 
advance (which came to the same thing) every bill presented 
to it. The agitators, however, persevered, receiving help from 



■!i vr. iwmii THE ACTION OF riT.I.lC OlMNMX 



a sympathetic press, andsoworked upon the honour and 

of the people I h came round. The 

hostile interesl I hard, and extorted some concessions. 

But in 1891 the bill was passed. 1 

We may now ask in what manner opinion, formed or form- 
ing, is able to influence the conduct of affairs ? 

The legal machinery through which the people are by the 
Constitution (Federal and State) invited to govern is that of 
elections. Occasionally, when the question of altering a State 
Constitution comes up, the citizen votes directly for or against 
a proposition put to him in the form of a constitutional amend- 
ment ; but otherwise it is only by voting for a man as candidate 
tint he can give expression to his views, and directly support 
or oppose some policy. Now, in every country voting for a 
man is an inadequate way of expressing one's views of policy, 
becaus mdidate is sure to differ in one or more questions 

from many of those who belong to the party. It is especially 
inadequate in the United States, because the strictness of party 
discipline leaves little freedom of individual thought or action 
to the member of a legislature, because the ordinary politician 
h is little interest in anything but the regular party pro- 
gramme, and because in no party are the citizens at large per- 
mitted to select their candidate, seeing that he is found for 
them and forced on them by the professionals of the party 
organization. "While, therefore, nothing is easier' than for 
opinion which runs in the direct channel of party to give 
effect to itself frequently and vigorously, nothing is harder 
than for opinion which wanders out of that channel to find a 
legal and regular means of bringing itself to bear upon those 
who govern either as legislators or executive officers. This is 
the weak point of the American party system, perhaps of 
every party system, from the point of view of the independent- 
minded citizen, as it is the strong point from that of the party 
manager. A body of unorganized opinion is, therefore, help- 
less in the face of compact parties. It is obliged to organize. 
When organized for the promotion of a particular view or 
proposition, it has in the United States three courses open 
to it. 

1 '• N dr of Amos' the exclamation of an eminent literary 

man who had been one of the most active promoters of the measi 



326 PUBLIC OPINION part iv 

The first is to capture one or other of the great standing 
parties, i.e. to persuade or frighten that party into adopting 
this view as part of its programme, or, to use the technical 
term, making it a plank of the platform, in which case the 
party candidates will be bound to support it. This is the 
most effective course, but the most difficult; for a party is 
sure to have something to lose as well as to gain by embracing 
a new dogma. Why should such parties as those of America 
have lately been, trouble themselves with taking up new ques- 
tions, unless they are satisfied they will gain thereby ? Their 
old dogmas are indeed worn threadbare, but have been hitherto 
found sufficient to cover them. 

The second course is for the men who hold the particular 
view to declare themselves a new party, put forward their 
own programme, run their own candidates. Besides being 
costly and troublesome, this course would be thought ridicu- 
lous where the view or proposition is not one of first-rate 
importance, which has already obtained wide support. Where, 
however, it is applicable, it is worth taking, even when the 
candidates cannot be carried, for it serves as an advertisement, 
and it alarms the old party, from which it withdraws voting 
strength in the persons of the dissidents. 

The third is to cast the voting weight of the organized pro- 
moters of the doctrine or view in question into the scale of 
whichever party shows the greatest friendliness, or seems 
most open to conversion. As in many States the regular par- 
ties are pretty equally balanced, even a comparatively weak 
body of opinion may decide the result. Such a body does not 
necessarily forward its own view, for the candidates whom 
its vote carries are nowise pledged to its programme. 1 But it 
has made itself felt, shown itself a power to be reckoned with, 
improved its chances of capturing one or other of the regular 
parties, or of running candidates of its own on some future 
occasion. When this transfer of the solid vote of a body of 

1 The practice of interrogating candidates with a view to ohtain pledges 
from them to vote in a particular sense is less used in America than in Eng- 
land. The rigour of party discipline, and the fact that business is divided 
between the Federal and the State legislatures may have something to do with 
this difference. However, American candidates are sometimes pressed by 
questions and demands from groups advocating moral reforms, such as liquor 
prohibition. 



chap, i.xxxiii THE ACTION OK PUBLIC OPINION 327 

agitators is the result of a bargain with the old party which 
gets the vote, it is called " selling out M ; and in such cases it 
sometimes happens that the bargain secures one or two offices 
for the incoming allies in consideration of the strength they 
have brought. But if the new group be honestly thinking of 
its doctrines and not of the offices, the terms it will ask will 
be the nomination of good candidates, or a more friendly atti- 
tude towards the new view. 

These are the ways in which either the minority of a party, 
holding some doctrine outside the regular party programme, 
or a new group aspiring to be a party, may assert itself at 
elections. The third is applicable wherever the discipline of 
the section which has arisen within a party is so good that 
its members can be trusted to break away from their former 
affiliation, and vote solid for the side their leaders have agreed 
to favour. It is a potent weapon, and liable to be abused. 
But in a country where the tide runs against minorities and 
small groups, it is most necessary. The possibility of its 
employment acts as a check on the regular parties, disposing 
them to abstain from legislation which might irritate any 
body of growing opinion and tend to crystallize it as a new 
organization, and making them more tolerant of minor diver- 
gences from the dogmas of the orthodox programme than their 
fierce love of party uniformity would otherwise permit. 

So far we have been considering the case of persons advo- 
cating some specific opinion or scheme. As respects the ordi- 
nary conduct of business by officials and legislators, the fear of 
popular displeasure to manifest itself at the next election is, 
of course, the most powerful of restraining influences. Under 
a system of balanced authorities, such fear helps to prevent 
or remove deadlocks as well as the abuse of power by any one 
authority. A President (or State governor) who has vetoed 
bills passed by Congress (or his State legislature) is embold- 
ened to go on doing so when he finds public opinion on his 
side ; and Congress (or the State legislature) will hesitate, 
though the requisite majority may be forthcoming, to pass 
these bills over the veto. A majority in the House of Rep- 
resentatives, or in a State legislative body, which has abused 
the power of closing debate by the " previous question " rule, 
may be frightened by expressions of popular disapproval from 



328 PUBLIC OPINION 



l'AUT IV 



repeating the offence. When the two branches of a legislature 
differ, and a valuable bill has failed, or when there has been 
vexatious filibustering, public opinion fixes the blame on the 
party primarily responsible for the loss of good measures or 
public time, and may punish it at the next election. Thus, in 
many ways and on many occasions, though not so often or so 
fully as is needed, the vision of the polls, seen some months 
or even years off, has power to terrify and warn selfish politi- 
cians. As the worth of courts of law is to be estimated not 
merely by the offences they pnnish and the suits they try, but 
even more by the offences from which the fear of penalties 
deters bad men, and by the payments which the prospect of a 
writ extracts from reluctant debtors, so a healthy and watch- 
ful pnblic opinion makes itself felt in preventing foolish or 
corrupt legislation and executive jobbery. Mischief is checked 
in America more frequently than anywhere else by the fear of 
exposure, or by newspaper criticisms on the first stage of a 
bad scheme. And, of course, the frequency of elections — in 
most respects a disadvantage to the country — has the merit 
of bringing the prospect of punishment nearer. 

It will be asked how the fear is brought home, seeing that 
the result of a coming election must usually be uncertain. 
Sometimes it is not brought home. The erring majority in a 
legislature may believe they have the people with them, or the 
governor may think his jobs will be forgotten. Generally, 
however, there are indications of the probable set of opinion 
in the language held by moderate men and the less partisan 
newspapers. When some of the organs of the party which is 
in fault begin to blame it, danger is in the air, for the other 
party is sure to use the opening thus given to it. And hence, 
of course, the control of criticism is most effective where par- 
ties are nearly balanced. Opinion seems to tell with special 
force when the question is between a legislative body passing 
bills or ordinances, and a president or governor, or mayor, veto- 
ing them, the legislature recoiling whenever they think the 
magistrate has got the people behind him. Even small fluc- 
tuations in a vote produce a great impression on the minds of 
politicians. 

The constancy or mutability of electoral bodies is a difficult 
phenomenon to explain, especially where secret voting prevails. 



bap. Lxxxm THE ACTION OF riliLir OPINION 329 



and a alize on. The t« 

electoral vote in any constituency to shift from Tory to Whig 
or Whig to Tory, used in England to be deemed to indicate 
the presence of a corrupt element. It was a black mark against 
a borough. In America it sometimes deserves the same inter- 
pretation, for thi re are corruptible masses in not a few dis- 
tricts. But there are also cases in which it points to the 
nee of an exceptionally thoughtful and unprejudiced ele- 
ment in the population, an element which rejects party dicta- 
tion, and seeks to cast its vote for the best man. The average 
American voter is more likely to be a partisan than the Eng- 
lish, and is, 1 think, less capricious, and therefore if a transfer 
of votes from one party to the other does not arise from some 
corrupt influence, it betokens serious disapproval on the part 
of the Bolters. Fluctuations are most frequent in one or two 
of the least sober and steady Western States, and in some of 
the most enlightened, such as New York and Massachusetts. 
In the former the people may be carried away by a sudden 
impulse; in the latter there is a section which judges candi- 
dates more by personal merits than by party professions. 

These defects which may be noted in the constitutional 
mechanism for enabling public opinion to rule promptly and 
smoothly, are, in a measure, covered by the expertness of 
Americans in using all kinds of voluntary and private agencies 
for the diffusion and expression of opinion. Where the object 
is to promote some particular cause, associations are formed 
and federated to one another, funds are collected, the press is 
set to work, lectures are delivered. When the law can pro- 
fitably be invoked (which is often the case in a country gov- 
erned by constitutions standing above the legislature), counsel 
are retained and suits instituted, all with the celerity and skill 
which long practice in such work has given. If the cause has 
a moral bearing, efforts are made to enlist the religious or semi- 
religious magazines, and the ministers of religion. 1 Deputa- 
tions proceed to Washington or to the State capital, and lay 
siege to individual legislators. Sometimes a distinct set of 
women's societies is created, whose action on and through 
women is all the more powerful because the deference shown 

1 In Philadelphia, during a struggle against the City Boss, the clergj r were 
requested to preach election sern. 



330 PUBLIC OPINION 



to the so-called weaker sex enables them to do what would be 
resented in men. Not long ago, I think in Iowa, when a tem- 
perance ticket was being run at the elections, parties of ladies 
gathered in front of the polling booths and sang hymns all day 
while the citizens voted. Every one remembers the "Women's 
Whisky War " when, in several Western States, bands of women 
entered the drinking saloons and, by entreaties and reproaches, 
drove out the customers. In no country has any sentiment 
which touches a number of persons so many ways of making 
itself felt ; though, to be sure, when the first and chief effort 
of every group is to convince the world that it is strong, and 
growing daily stronger, great is the difficulty of determining 
whether those who are vocal are really numerous or only 
noisy. 

For the promotion of party opinion on the leading questions 
that divide or occupy parties, there exist, of course, the regu- 
lar party organizations, whose complex and widely ramified 
mechanism has been described in an earlier chapter. Opinion 
is, however, the thing with which this mechanism is at present 
least occupied. Its main objects are the selection of the party 
candidates and the conduct of the canvass at elections. Traces 
of the other purpose remain in the practice of adopting, at 
State and national conventions, a platform, or declaration of 
principles and views, which is the electoral manifesto of the 
party, embodying the tenets which it is supposed to live for. 
A convention is a body fitted neither by its numbers nor its 
composition for the discussion and sifting of political doc- 
trines ; but, even if it were so fitted, that is not the work to 
which its masters would set it. A " platform " is invariably 
prepared by a small committee, and usually adopted by the 
general committee, and by the convention, with little change. 
Its tendency is neither to define nor to convince, but rather to 
attract and to confuse. It is a mixture of denunciation, dec- 
lamation, and conciliation. It reprobates the opposite party 
for their past misdeeds, and " views with alarm " their present 
policy. It repeats the tale of the services which the party of 
those who issue it has rendered in the past, is replete with 
sounding democratic generalities, and attempts so to expand 
and expound the traditional party tenets as to make these in- 
clude all sound doctrines, and deserve the support of all good 



ohap. iwxiii THE ACTION OF PUBLIC OPINIOH 881 

citizens. At present neither platforms nor the process that 
produces them have a powerful influence on the maturing and 
clarification o( political opinion. However, in times more 
stirring than the present, as in the days immediately preced- 
ing the Civil War, conventions have recorded the acceptance 
of certain vital propositions, and rejection of certain dangerous 
proposals, by one or other of the great parties, and they may 
again have to do so, not to add that an imprudent platform 
lays a party open to damaging attacks. When any important 
election comes off, the party organization sends its speakers 
out on stumping tours, and distributes a flood of campaign 
literature. At other times opinion moves in a different plane 
from that of party machinery, and is scarcely affected by it. 

One might expect that in the United States the thoughts of 
the people would be more equably and uniformly employed on 
polities than in European countries. The contrary is the case. 
Opinion, no doubt, is always alive and vigilant, always in 
process of formation, growth, and decay. But its activity is 
less continuous and sustained than in Europe, because there is 
a greater difference between the spring-tide of a presidential 
campaign year and the neap-tides of the three off years than 
there is between one year and another under the European 
system of chambers which may be dissolved and ministries 
which may be upset at any moment. Excitement at one time 
is succeeded by exhaustion at another. America suffers from 
a sort of intermittent fever — what one may call a quintan 
ague. Every fourth year there come terrible shakings, passing 
into the hot fit of the presidential election ; then follows what 
physicians call " the interval " ; then again the fit. In Europe 
the persons who move in the inner sphere of politics, give un- 
broken attention to political problems, always discussing them 
both among themselves and before the people. As the corre- 
sponding persons in America are not organized into a class, 
and to some extent not engaged in practical politics, the work 
of discussion has been left to be done, in the three " off years," 
by the journalists and a few of the more active and thoughtful 
statesmen, with casual aid from such private citizens as may 
be interested. Now many problems require uninterrupted and 
what may be called scientific or professional study. Foreign 
policy obviously presents such problems. The shortcomings 



PUBLIC OPINION 



of modern England in the conduct of foreign affairs have been 
not unreasonably attributed to the fact that, while the atten- 
tion of her statesmen is constantly distracted from them by 
domestic struggles, her people have not been accustomed to 
turn their eyes abroad except when some exciting event, such 
as the war of 1870 or the Bulgarian massacre of 1876, forces 
them to do so. Hence a State like Germany, where a strong- 
throne keeps a strong minister in power for long periods, ob- 
tains advantages which must be credited not wholly to the 
wisdom of the statesmen, but also to the difficulties under 
which their rivals in more democratic countries labour. Amer- 
ica has little occasion to think of foreign affairs, but some of 
her domestic difficulties are such as to demand that careful ob- 
servation and unbroken reflection which neither her executive 
magistrates, nor her legislatures, nor any leading class among 
her people now give. 

Those who know the United States and have been struck by 
the quantity of what is called politics there, may think that 
this description underrates the volume and energy of public 
political discussion. I admit the endless hubbub, the constant 
elections in one district or another, the paragraphs in the news- 
papers as to the movements or intentions of this or that promi- 
nent man, the reports of what is doing in Congress and in the 
State legislatures, the decisions of the Federal Courts in con- 
stitutional questions, the rumours about new combinations, the 
revelations of Ring intrigues, the criticisms on appointments. 
It is nevertheless true that in proportion to the number of 
words spoken, articles printed, telegrams sent, and acts per- 
formed, less than is needed is done to form serious political 
thought, and bring practical problems towards a solution. 
I once travelled through Transylvania with Mr. Leslie Stephen 
in a peasant's waggon, a rude, long, low structure filled with 
hay. The roads were rough and stony, the horses jangled 
their bells, the driver shouted to the horses and cracked his 
whip, the wheels clanked, the boards rattled, we were deafened 
and shaken and jolted. We fancied ourselves moving rapidly 
so long as we looked straight in front, but a glance at the trees 
on the roadside showed that the speed was about three miles 
an hour. So the pother and din of American politics keep the 
people awake, and give them a sense of stir and motion, but the 



chap. Lxxxni THE ACTION OF PUBLIC OPINION 383 



machine of government carries them slowly onward. Fortu- 
nately fchey have no need to hurry. It is not so much by or 
through the machinery of government as by their own practi- 
cal good sense, which at last finds a solution the politicians may 
have failed to find, that the American people advance. When 
a European visitor dines with a company of the best citizens 
in an Eastern city, such as Boston or Baltimore, he is struck 
by the acuteness, the insight, the fairness with which the con- 
dition and requirements of the country are discussed, the free- 
dom from such passion or class feeling as usually clouds equally 
able Europeans, the substantial agreement between members of 
both the great parties as to the reforms that are wanted, the 
patriotism which is so proud of the real greatness of the Union 
as frankly to acknowledge its defects, the generous apprecia- 
tion of all that is best in the character or political methods of 
other nations. One feels what a reserve fund of wisdom and 
strength the country has in such men, who so far from being 
aristocrats or recluses, are usually the persons whom their 
native fellow-townsmen best know and most respect as promi- 
nent in business and in the professions. In ordinary times the 
practical concern of such men with either national or local poli- 
tics is no greater, possibly less, than that of the leaders of 
business in an English town towards its municipal affairs. 
But when there comes an uprising against the bosses, it is 
these men who are called upon to put themselves at the head 
of it ; or when a question like that of civil service reform has 
been before the nation for some time, it is their opinion which 
strikes the keynote for that of their city or district, and which 
shames or alarms the professional politicians. Men of the 
same type, though individually less conspicuous than those 
whom I take as examples, are to be found in many of the 
smaller towns, especially in the Eastern and Middle States, 
and as time goes on their influence grows. Much of the value 
of this most educated and reflective class in America consists 
in their being no longer blindly attached to their party, because 
more alive to the principles for which parties ought to exist. 
They may be numerically a small minority of the voters, but 
as in many States the two regular parties command a nearly 
equal normal voting strength, a small section detached from 
either party can turn an election by throwing its vote for the 



334 PUBLIC OPINION 



candidate, to whichever party he belongs, whom it thinks capa- 
ble and honest. Thus an independent group wields a power 
altogether disproportionate to its numbers, and by a sort of 
side wind can not only make its hostility feared, but secure a 
wider currency for its opinions. What opinion chiefly needs 
in America in order to control the politicians is not so much 
men of leisure, for men of leisure may be dilettantes and may 
lack a grip of realities, but a more sustained activity on the 
part of the men of vigorously independent minds, a more sedu- 
lous effort on their part to impress their views upon the masses, 
and a disposition on the part of the ordinary well-meaning but 
often inattentive citizens to prefer the realities of good admin- 
istration to outworn party cries. 



CHAPTEE LXXXIV 

THE TYRANNY OF THE MAJORITY 

The expression -'tyranny of the majority" is commonly 
used to denote any abuse by the majority of the powers which 
it enjoys, in free countries under and through the law, and in all 
countries outside the law. Such abuse will not be tyrannous 
in the sense of being illegal, as men called a usurper like 
Dionysius of Syracuse or Louis Napoleon in France a t}^rant, 
for in free countries whatever the majority chooses to do in 
the prescribed constitutional way will be legal. It will be 
tyrannous in the sense of the lines 

"0 it is excellent 
To have a giant's strength, but it is tyrannous 
To use it like a giant." 

That is to say, tyranny consists in the wanton or inequitable 
use of strength by the stronger, in the use of it to do things 
which one equal would not attempt against another. A majority 
is tyrannical when it decides without hearing the minority, 
when it suppresses fair and temperate criticism on its own acts, 
when it insists on restraining men in matters where restraint is 
not required by the common interest, when it forces men to 
contribute money to objects which they disapprove, and which 
the common interest does not demand, when it subjects to 
social penalties persons who disagree from it in matters not 
vital to the common welfare. The element of tyranny lies in 
the wantonness of the act, a wantonness springing from the 
insolence which sense of overwhelming power breeds, or in the 
fact that it is a misuse for one purpose of authority granted for 
another. It consists not in the form of the act, which may be 
perfectly legal, but in the spirit and temper it reveals, and in 
the sense of injustice and oppression which it evokes in the 
minority. 

335 



336 PUBLIC OPINION 



Philosophers have long since perceived that the same ten- 
dencies to a wanton or nnjust abuse of power which exist in a 
despot or a ruling oligarchy may be expected in a democracy 
from the ruling majority, because they are tendencies incidental 
to human nature. 1 The danger was felt and feared by the 
sages of 1787, and a passage in the Federalist (No. L.) dwells 
on the safeguards which the great size of a Federal republic, 
and the diverse elements of which it will be composed, offer 
against the tendency of a majority to oppress a minorit}?-. 

Since Tocqueville dilated upon this as the capital fault of the 
American government and people, Europeans, already prepared 
to expect to find the tyranny of the majority a characteristic 
sin of democratic nations, have been accustomed to think of the 
United States as disgraced by it, and on the strength of this 
instance have predicted it as a necessary result of the growth 
of democracy in the Old World. It is therefore worth while 
to inquire what foundation exists for the reproach as addressed 
to the Americans of to-day. 

We may look for signs of this tyranny in three quarters — 
firstly, in the legislation of Congress ; secondly, in the consti- 
tutions and statutes of the States; thirdly, in the action of 
public opinion and sentiment outside the sphere of law. 

The Federal Constitution, which has not only limited the 
competence of Congress, but hedged it round with many positive 
prohibitions, has closed some of the avenues by which a majority 
might proceed to abuse its powers. Freedom of speech, freedom 
of religion, opportunities for debate, are all amply secured. 
The power of taxation, and that of regulating commerce, might 
conceivably be used to oppress certain classes of persons, as, 
for instance, if a prohibitory duty were to be laid on certain 
articles which a minority desired and the majority condemned 
the use of. But nothing of the sort has been attempted. 
Whatever may be thought of the expediency of the present 
tariff, which, no doubt, favours one class, it cannot be said to 
oppress any class. In its political action, as, for instance, 
during the struggle over slavery, when for a while it refused 

1 The comparison of the majority to an absolute monarch is as old as 

Aristotle. fx6vap\0'; 6 StJ/jios Yi'veTai (Polit. iv. 4, 26) ; citanep rvpavvia T(j) Stjjuo) 

X api£6nei>oi (Ibid. ii. 12,4). In the Greek cities, where the respect for law 
was weak, a triumphant party frequently overrode the law, just as the tyrants 
did. 



chap, i.xxxiv THE TYRANNY OF THE MAJORITY 337 

to receive Abolitionist petitions, and even tried to prevent thu 
transmission by mail of Abolitionist matter, and again during 
and after the war in some of its reconstruction measures, the 
majority, under the pressure of excitement, exercised its powers 
harshly and unwisely. But such political action is hardly the 
kind of action to which the charge we are examining applies. 

In the States, a majority of the citizens may act either 
directly in enacting (or amending) a constitution, or through 
their legislature by passing statutes. We might expect to find 
instances of abuse of power more in the former than in the 
latter class of cases, because, though the legislature is habitu- 
ally and the people of the State only intermittently active, 
the legislatures have now been surrounded by a host of consti- 
tutional limitations which a tyrannical majority would need 
some skill to evade. However, one discovers wonderfully little 
in the State Constitutions now in force of which a minority 
can complain. These instruments contain a great deal of ordi- 
nary law and administrative law. If the tendency to abuse 
legislative power to the injury of any class were general, in- 
stances of it could not fail to appear. One does not find them. 
There are some provisions strictly regulating corporations, and 
especially railroads and banks, which may perhaps be unwise, 
and which in limiting the modes of using capital apply rather 
to the rich than to the masses. But such provisions cannot be 
called wanton or oppressive. 

The same remark applies to the ordinary statutes of the 
States, so far as I have been able to ascertain their character. 
They can rarely be used to repress opinion or its expression, 
because the State Constitutions contain ample guarantees for 
free speech, a free press, and the right of public meeting. For 
the same reason, they cannot encroach on the personal liberty 
of the citizen, nor on the full enjoyment of private property. 
In all such fundamentals the majority has prudently taken the 
possible abuse of its power out of the hands of the legislature. 

When we come to minor matters, we are met by the difficulty 
of determining what is a legitimate exercise of legislative 
authority. Xowhere are men agreed as to the limits of state 
interference. Some few think that law ought not to restrict 
the sale of intoxicants at all ; many more that it ought not to 
make the procuring of them, for purposes of pleasure, difficult 

VOL. II z 



338 PUBLIC OPINION 



or impossible. Others hold that the common welfare justifies 
prohibition. Some deem it unjust to tax a man, and especially 
an unmarried man, for the support of public schools, or at any 
rate of public schools other than elementary. To most Eoman 
Catholics it seems unjust to refuse denominational schools a 
share of the funds raised by taxing, among other citizens, 
those who hold it a duty to send their children to schools in 
which their own faith is inculcated. Some think a law tyran- 
nical which forbids a man to exclude others from ground which 
he keeps waste and barren, while others blame the law which 
permits a man to reserve, as they think, tyrannically, large 
tracts of country for his own personal enjoyment. So any 
form of state establishment or endowment of a particular creed 
or religious body will by some be deemed an abuse, by others a 
wise and proper use of state authority. Remembering such dif- 
ferences of opinion, all I can say is that even those who take the 
narrower view of state functions will find little to censure in 
the legislation of American States. They may blame the 
restriction or prohibition of the sale of intoxicants. They may 
think that the so-called " moral legislation " for securing the 
purity of literature, and for protecting the young against 
various temptations, attempts too much. They may question 
the expediency of the legislation intended for the benefit of 
working men. But there are few of these provisions which 
can be called harsh or tyrannical, which display a spirit that 
ignores or tramples on the feelings or rights of a minority. 
The least defensible statutes are perhaps those which Cali- 
fornia has aimed at the Chinese (who are not technically a 
minority since they are not citizens at all), and those by which 
some Southern States have endeavoured to accentuate the sepa- 
ration between whites and negroes, forbidding them to be 
taught in the same schools or colleges or to travel in the same 
cars. 

We come now to the third way in which a majority may 
tyrannize, i.e. by the imposition of purely social penalties, from 
mere disapproval up to insult, injury, and boycotting. The 
greatest of Athenian statesmen claimed for his countrymen 
that they set an example to the rest of Greece in that enlight- 
ened toleration which does not even visit with black looks 
those who hold unpopular opinions, or venture in anywise to 



cii.vr. lxxxiv THE TYRANNY OF THE MAJORITY 889 

differ from the prevailing sentiment. Such enlightenment is 
doubtless one of the latest fruits and crowns of a high civili- 
zation, and all the more to be admired when it is not the result 
of indifference, but coexists with energetic action in the field 
of politics or religion or social reform. 

If social persecution exists in the America of to-day, it is 
only in a few dark corners. One may travel all over the North 
and West, mingling with all classes and reading the newspa- 
pers, without hearing of it. As respects religion, so long as 
one does not openly affront the feelings of one's neighbours, 
one may say what one likes, and go or not go to church. 
Doubtless a man. and still more a woman, will be better thought 
of, especially in a country place or small town, for being a 
church-member and Sunday-school teacher. But no one suffers 
in mind, body, or estate for simply holding aloof from a reli- 
gious or any other voluntary association. He would be more 
likely to suffer in an English village. Even in the South, where 
a stricter standard of orthodoxy is maintained among the Prot- 
estant clergy than in the North or West, a layman may think 
as he pleases. It is the same as regards social questions, and 
of course as regards politics. To boycott a man for his poli- 
tics, or even to discourage his shop in the way not uncommon 
in parts of rural England and Ireland, would excite indignation 
in America ; as the attempts of some labour organizations to 
boycott firms resisting strikes have aroused strong displeasure. 
If in the South a man took to cultivating the friendship of 
negroes and organizing them in clubs, or if in the far West a 
man made himself the champion of the Indians, he might find 
his life become unpleasant, though one hears little of recent 
instances of the kind. In any part of the country he who 
should use his rights of property in a hard or unneighbourly 
way, who, for instance, should refuse all access to a waterfall 
or a beautiful point of view, would be reprobated and sent to 
Coventry. I know of no such cases; perhaps the fear of gen- 
eral disapproval prevents their arising. 

In saying that there is no social persecution, I do not deny 
that in some places, as, for instance, in the smaller towns of 
the West, there is too little allowance for difference of tastes 
and pursuits, too much disposition to expect every family to 
conform to the same standard of propriety, and follow the same 



340 PUBLIC OPINION 



habits of life. A person acting, however innocently, without 
regard to the beliefs and prejudices of his neighbours would be 
talked about, and perhaps looked askance upon. Many a man 
used to the variety of London or Washington would feel the 
monotony of Western life, and the uniform application of its 
standards, irksome and even galling. But, so far as I could 
ascertain, he would have nothing specific to complain of. And 
these Western towns become every day more like the cities of 
the East. Taking the country all in all, it is hard to imagine 
more complete liberty than individuals and groups enjoy either 
to express and propagate their views, or to act as they please 
within the limits of the law, limits which, except as regards 
the sale of intoxicants, are drawn as widely as in Western 
Europe. 

Fifty or sixty years ago it was very different. Congress was 
then as now debarred from oppressive legislation. But in 
some Northern States the legislatures were not slow to deal 
harshly with persons or societies who ran counter to the domi- 
nant sentiment. The persecution by the legislature of Con- 
necticut, as well as by her own townsfolk, of Miss Prudence 
Crandall, a benevolent Quakeress who had opened a school for 
negro children, is a well-remembered instance. A good many 
rigidly Puritanic statutes stood unrepealed in New England, 
though not always put in force against the transgressor. In 
the Slave States laws of the utmost severity punished whoso- 
ever should by word or act assail the " peculiar institution." 
Even more tyrannical than the laws was the sentiment of the 
masses. In Boston a mob, a well-dressed mob, largely com- 
posed of the richer sort of people, hunted Garrison for his life 
through the streets because he was printing an Abolitionist 
journal; a mob in Illinois shot Elijah Lovejoy for the same 
offence ; and as late as 1844 another Illinois crowd killed 
Joseph Smith, the Mormon prophet, who, whatever may be 
thought of his honesty or his doctrines, was as much entitled 
to the protection of the laws as any other citizen. In the 
South, as every one knows, there was a reign of terror as 
regards slavery. Any one suspected of Abolitionism might 
think himself lucky if he escaped with tar and feathers, and 
was not shot or flogged almost to death. This extreme sensi- 
tiveness was of course confined to a few burning questions ; 



chap, iwxiv THE TYRANNY OF THE MAJORITY 841 

but the halm of repressing by law or without law obnoxiou i 
opinions was likely to spread, and did spread, at least in the 
South, to other matters also. As regards thought and opinion 
generally over the Union, Tocqueville declares : — 

" Je ne eonnals pas do pays on il regno, en general, moins d'indepen- 
danee d'esprit et de veritable liberte de discussion qu'en Amerique. La 
majority trace un cercle formidable autour de la pensee. Au dedans de 
ces li mites, Pfecrivain est libre, mais malheur a lui s'il ose en sortir ! Ce 
n'est pas qu'il ait a craindre un auto-da-fe, mais il est en butte a des 
degoiits de tout genre et a des persecutions de tous les jours. La carriere 
politique lui est fermee : il a offense la seule puissance qui ait la faculte 
de rouvrir. On lui refuse tout, jusqu'a la gloire." — Vol. ii. ch. 7. 

He ascribes not only the want of great statesmen, but the low 
level of literature, learning, and thought, to this total absence 
of intellectual freedom. 

It is hard for any one who knows the Northern States now 
to believe that this can have been a just description of them 
so lately as sixty years ago. One is tempted to think that 
Tocqueville's somewhat pessimistic friends in New England, 
mortified by the poverty of intellectual production around 
them, may have exaggerated the repressive tendencies in which 
they found the cause of that poverty. We can now see that 
the explanation was erroneous. Freedom does not necessarily 
bring fertility. As they erred in their diagnosis, they may have 
erred in their observation of the symptoms. 

Assuming, however, that the description was a just one, 
how are we to explain the change to the absolute freedom 
and tolerance of to-day, when every man may sit under his 
own vine and fig-tree and say and do (provided he drink 
not the juice of that vine) what he pleases, none making him 
afraid ? 

One may suspect that Tocqueville, struck by the enormous 
power of general opinion, attributed too much of the submis- 
siveness which he observed to the active coercion of the 
majority, and too little to that tendency of the minority to 
acquiescence, which will be discussed in the next succeeding 
chapter. Setting this aside, however, and assuming that the 
majority did in those days really tyrannize, several causes may 
be assigned for its having ceased to do so. One is the absence 



342 PUBLIC OPINION part iv 

of violent passions. Slavery, the chief source of ferocity, was 
to the heated minds of the South a matter of life or death ; 
Abolitionism seemed to many in the North a disloyal heresy, 
the necessary parent of disunion. Since the Civil War there 
has been no crisis calculated to tempt majorities to abuse their 
legal powers. Partisanship has for years past been more in- 
tense in Great Britain — not to say Ireland — and France than 
in America. When Tocqueville saw the United States, the 
democratic spirit was in the heyday of its youthful strength, 
flushed with self-confidence, intoxicated with the exuberance 
of its own freedom. The first generation of statesmen whose 
authority had restrained the masses, had just quitted the stage. 
The anarchic teachings of Jefferson had borne fruit. Admini- 
stration and legislation, hitherto left to the educated classes, 
had been seized by the rude hands of men of low social position 
and scanty knowledge. A reign of brutality and violence had 
set in over large regions of the country. Neither literature nor 
the universities exercised as yet any sensible power. The 
masses were so persuaded of their immense superiority to all 
other peoples, past as well as present, that they would listen to 
nothing but flattery, and their intolerance spread from politics 
into every other sphere. Our European philosopher may there- 
fore have been correct in his description of the facts as he saw 
them: he erred in supposing them essential to a democratic 
government. As the nation grew, it purged away these faults 
of youth and inexperience, and the stern discipline of the Civil 
War taught it sobriety, and in giving it something to be really 
proud of, cleared away the fumes of self-conceit. 

The years which have passed since the war have been years 
of immensely extended and popularized culture and enlighten- 
ment. Bigotry in religion and in everything else has been 
broken down. The old landmarks have been removed: the 
habits and methods of free inquiry, if not generally practised, 
have at least become superficially familiar ; the "latest results," 
as people call them, of European thought have been brought to 
the knowledge of the native Americans more fully than to the 
masses of Europe. At the same time, as all religious and socio- 
religious questions, except those which relate to education, are 
entirely disjoined from politics and the State, neither those who 
stand by the old views, nor those who embrace the new, carry that 



CHAi-. i.xwn DHE IVKANNV OF THE MAJORITY 344 

bitterness into their controversies which is natural in countries 
where religious questions are also party questions, where the 
. are a privileged and salaried order, where the throne is 
held bound to defend the altar, and the workman is taught to 
believe that both are leagued against him. The influence of 
these causes will, it may be predicted, be permanent. Should 
passion again invade politics, or should the majority become 
convinced that its interests will be secured by overtaxing the 
few, one can imagine the tendency of fifty years ago reappear- 
ing in new forms. But in no imaginable future is there likely 
to be any attempt to repress either by law or by opinion the 
free exeroi>e and expression of speculative thought on morals, 
on religion, and indeed on every matter not within the im- 
mediate range of politics. 

If the above account be correct, the tyranny of the majority 
is no longer a blemish on the American system, and the charges 
brought against democracy from the supposed example of 
America are groundless. As tyranny is one of those evils 
which tends to perpetuate itself, those who had been oppressed 
revenging themselves by becoming oppressors in their turn, 
the fact that a danger once dreaded has now disappeared is no 
small evidence of the recuperative forces of the American 
government, and the healthy tone of the American people. 



CHAPTER LXXXV 

THE FATALISM OF THE MULTITUDE 

One feature of thought and sentiment in the United States 
needs special examination because it has been by most observ- 
ers either ignored or confounded with a phenomenon which is 
at bottom quite different. This is a fatalistic attitude of mind, 
which, since it disposes men to acquiesce in the rule of num- 
bers, has been, when perceived, attributed to or identified with 
what is commonly called the Tyranny of the Majority. The ten- 
dency to fatalism is never far from mankind. It is one of the 
first solutions of the riddle of the earth propounded by meta- 
physics. It is one of the last propounded by science. It has 
at all times formed the background to religions. No race is 
naturally less disposed to a fatalistic view of things than is the 
Anglo-American, with its restless self-reliant energy. 

Nil actum reputans dum quid restaret agendum, 

its slender taste for introspection or meditation. Nevertheless, 
even in this people the conditions of life and politics have bred 
a sentiment or tendency which seems best described by the 
name of fatalism. 

In small and rude communities, every free man, or at least 
every head of a household, feels his own significance and rea- 
lizes his own independence. He relies on himself, he is little 
interfered with by neighbours or rulers. 1 His will and his 
action count for something in the conduct of the affairs of the 
community he belongs to, yet common affairs are few com- 
pared to those in which he must depend on his own exertions. 

1 The kind of self-reliant attitude I am seeking to describe is quite a different 
thing from the supposed " state of nature " in which a man has no legal rela- 
tions with his fellows. It may exist (as in early Rome) among the members 
of a community closely united by legal ties. 
344 



chap.lxxxv THE FATALISM OF THE MULTITUDE W 



The most striking pictures of individualism that literature 

has preserved for us are those of the Homeric heroes, and of 
the even more terrible and self-reliant warriors of the Scan- 
dinavian sagas, men like Ragnar Lodbrog and Egil, son of 
Skallagrim, who did not regard even the gods, but trusted to 
their own might and main. In more developed states of 
society organized on an oligarchic basis, such as were the 
feudal kingdoms of the Middle Ages, or in socially aristocratic 
countries such as most parts of Europe have remained down 
to our own time, the bulk of the people are no doubt in a 
dependent condition, but each person derives a certain sense 
of personal consequence from the strength of his group and of 
the person or family at the head of it. Moreover, the upper 
class, being the class which thinks and writes, as well as leads 
in action, impresses its own type upon the character of the 
whole nation, and that type is still individualistic, with a 
strong consciousness of personal free will, and a tendency for 
each man, if not to think for himself, at least to value and 
to rely on his own opinion. 

Let us suppose, however, that the aristocratic structure of 
society has been dissolved, that the old groups have disap- 
peared, that men have come to feel themselves members rather 
of the nation than of classes, or families, or communities 
within the nation, that a levelling process has destroyed the 
ascendency of birth and rank, that large landed estates no 
longer exist, that many persons in what was previously the 
humbler class have acquired possession of property, that 
knowledge is easily accessible and the power of using it 
no longer confined to the few. Under such conditions of 
social equality the habit of intellectual command and indi- 
vidual self-confidence will have vanished from the leading- 
class, which creates the type of national character, and will 
exist nowhere in the nation. 

Let us suppose, further, that political equality has gone 
hand in hand with the levelling down of social eminence. 
Every citizen enjoys the same right of electing the repre- 
sentatives and officials, the same right of himself becoming a 
representative or an official. Every one is equally concerned 
in the conduct of public affairs, and since no man's opin- 
ion, however great his superiority in wealth, knowledge, or 



346 PUBLIC OPINION 



personal capacity, is legally entitled to any more weight than 
another's, no man is entitled to set special value on his own 
opinion, or to expect others to defer to it ; for pretensions to 
authority will be promptly resented. All disputes are referred 
to the determination of the majority, there being no legal dis- 
tinction between the naturally strong and naturally weak, 
between the rich and the poor, between the wise and the fool- 
ish. In such a state of things the strong man's self-confidence 
and sense of individual force will inevitably have been lowered, 
because he will feel that he is only one of many, that his vote 
or voice counts for no more than that of his neighbour, that 
he can prevail, if at all, only by keeping himself on a level 
with his neighbour and recognizing the latter's personality as 
being every whit equal to his own. 

Suppose, further, that all this takes place in an enormously 
large and populous country, where the governing voters are 
counted by so many millions that each individual feels himself 
a mere drop in the ocean, the influence which he can exert 
privately, whether by his personal gifts or by his wealth, being 
confined to the small circle of his town or neighbourhood. On 
all sides there stretches round him an illimitable horizon ; and 
beneath the blue vault which meets that horizon there is every- 
where the same busy multitude with its clamour of mingled 
voices which he hears close by. In this multitude his own 
being seems lost. He has the sense of insignificance which 
overwhelms us when at night we survey the host of heaven, 
and know that from even the nearest fixed star this planet of 
ours is invisible. 

In such a country, where complete political equality is 
strengthened and perfected by complete social equality, where 
the will of the majority is absolute, unquestioned, always 
invoked to decide every question, and where the numbers 
which decide are so vast that one comes to regard them as one 
regards the largely working forces of nature, we may expect to 
find certain feelings and beliefs dominant in the minds of men. 

One of these is that the majority must prevail. All free 
government rests on this belief, for there is no other way of 
working free government. To obey the majority is, therefore, 
both a necessity and a duty, a duty because the alternative 
would be ruin and the breaking-up of laws. 



criAP. lxxxv THE FATALISM OF THE MULTITUDE 347 

Out of this dogma there grows up another which is less dis- 
tinctly admitted, and indeed held rather implicitly than con- 
sciously, that the majority is right. And out of both of these 
there grows again the feeling, still less consciously held, but 
not less truly operative, that it is vain to oppose or censure 
the majority. 

It may seem that there is a long step from the first of these 
propositions to the second and third; and that, in fact, the 
very existence of a minority striving with a majority implies 
that there must be many who hold the majority to be wrong, 
and are prepared to resist it. Men do not at once abandon 
their views because they have been outvoted ; they reiterate 
their views, they reorganize their party, they hope to prevail, 
and often do prevail in a subsequent trial of strength. 

All this is doubtless involved in the very methods of popular 
government. But it is, nevertheless, true that the belief in 
the right of the majority lies very near to the belief that the 
majority must be right. As self-government is based on the 
notion that each man is more likely to be right than to be 
wrong, and that one man's opinion must be treated as equally 
good with another's, there is a presumption that when twenty 
thousand vote one way, and twenty-one thousaud another, the 
view of the greater number is the better view. The habit of 
deference to a decision actually given strengthens this presump- 
tion, and weaves it into the texture of every mind. A con- 
scientious citizen feels that he ought to obey the determination 
of the majority, and naturally prefers to think that which he 
obeys to be right. A citizen languidly interested in the ques- 
tion at issue finds it easier to comply with and adopt the view 
of the majority than to hold out against it. A small number 
of men with strong convictions or warm party feeling will, for 
a time, resist. But even they feel differently towards their 
cause after it has been defeated from what they did while it 
had still a prospect of success. They know that in the same 
proportion in which their supporters are dismayed, the majority 
is emboldened and confirmed in its views. It will be harder 
to fight a second battle than it was to fight the first, for there 
is (so to speak) a steeper slope of popular disapproval to be 
climbed. Thus, just as at the opening of a campaign, the 
event of the first collisions between the hostile armies has 



348 PUBLIC OPINION 



great significance, because the victory of one is taken as an 
omen and a presage by both, so in the struggles of parties 
success at an incidental election works powerfully to strengthen 
those who succeed, and depress those who fail, for it inspires 
self-confidence or self-distrust, and it turns the minds of 
waverers. The very obscurity of the causes which move 
opinion adds significance to the result. So in the United 
States, when the elections in any State precede by a few weeks 
a presidential contest, their effect has sometimes been so great 
as virtually to determine that contest by filling one side with 
hope and the other with despondency. Those who prefer to 
swim with the stream are numerous everywhere, and their 
votes have as much weight as the votes of the keenest parti- 
sans. A man of convictions may insist that the arguments on 
both sides are after the polling just what they were before. 
But the average man will repeat his arguments with less faith, 
less zeal, more of a secret fear that he may be wrong, than he 
did while the majority was still doubtful; and after every 
reassertion by the majority of its judgment, his knees grow 
feebler, till at last they refuse to carry him into the combat. 

The larger the scale on which the majority works, the more 
potent are these tendencies. When the scene of action is a 
small commonwealth, the individual voters are many of them 
personally known to one another, and the motives which deter- 
mine their votes are understood and discounted. When it is a 
moderately-sized country, the towns or districts which compose 
it are not too numerous for reckoning to overtake and imagina- 
tion to picture them, and in many cases their action can be 
explained by well-known causes which may be represented as 
transitory. But when the theatre stretches itself to a conti- 
nent, when the number of voters is counted by many millions, 
the wings of imagination droop, and the huge voting mass 
ceases to be thought of as merely so many individual human 
beings no wiser or better than one's own neighbours. The 
phenomenon seems to pass into the category of the phe- 
nomena of nature, governed by far-reaching and inexorable 
laws whose character science has only imperfectly ascertained, 
and which she can use only by obeying. It inspires a sort of 
awe, a sense of individual impotence, like that which man feels 
when he contemplates the majestic and eternal forces of the 



i.wxv THE FATALISM OF THE MULTITUDE 349 



inanimate world. Such a feeling is even stronger when it 
operates, not on a cohesive minority which had lately hoped, 
or may yet hope, to become a majority, but on a single man or 
small group of persons cherishing some opinion which the mass 
disapproves. Thus out of the mingled feelings that the multi- 
tude will prevail, and that the multitude, because it will pre- 
vail must be right, there grows a self-distrust, a despondency, 
a disposition to fall into line, to acquiesce in the dominant 
opinion, to submit thought as well as action to the encompass- 
ing power of numbers. Now and then a resolute man will, 
like Athanasius, stand alone against the world. But such a 
man must have, like Athanasius, some special spring of inward 
strength ; and the difficulty of winning over others against the 
overwhelming weight of the multitude will, even in such a 
man. dull the edge of enterprise. An individual seeking to 
make his view prevail, looks forth on his hostile fellow- 
countrymen as a solitary swimmer, raised high on a billow 
miles from land, looks over the countless waves that divide 
him from the shore, and quails to think how small the chance 
that his strength can bear him thither. 

This tendency to acquiescence and submission, this sense of 
the insignificance of individual effort, this belief that the 
affairs of men are swayed by large forces whose movement 
may be studied but cannot be turned, I have ventured to call 
the Fatalism of the ^Multitude. It is often confounded with 
the tyranny of the majority, but is at bottom different, though, 
of course, its existence makes abuses of power by the majority 
easier, because less apt to be resented. But the fatalistic atti- 
tude I have been seeking to describe does not imply any exer- 
cise of power by the majority at all. It may rather seem to 
soften and make less odious such an exercise of power, may 
even dispense with that exercise, because it disposes a minority 
to submit without the need of a command, to spontaneously 
renounce its own view and fall in with the view which the 
majority has expressed. In the fatalism of the multitude 
there is neither legal nor moral compulsion ; there is merely a 
loss of resisting power, a diminished sense of personal responsi- 
bility, and of the duty to battle for one's own opinions, such 
as has been bred in some peoples by the belief in an overmas- 
tering fate, ft is true that the force to which the citizen of 



350 PUBLIC OPINION part iv 

the vast democracy submits is a moral force, not that of an 
unapproachable Allah, nor of the unchangeable laws of matter. 
But it is a moral force acting on so vast a scale, and from 
causes often so obscure, that its effect on the mind of the indi- 
vidual may well be compared with that which religious or 
scientific fatalism engenders. 

No one will suppose that the above sketch is intended to 
apply literally to the United States, where in some matters 
legal restrictions check a majority, where local self-government 
gives the humblest citizen a sphere for public action, where 
individualism is still in many forms and directions so vigorous. 
An American explorer, an American settler in new lands, an 
American man of business pushing a great enterprise, is a 
being as bold and resourceful as the world has ever seen. All 
I seek to convey is that there are in the United States signs 
of such a fatalistic temper, signs which one must expect to 
find wherever a vast population governs itself under a system 
of complete social and political equality, and which may grow 
more frequent as time goes on. 

There exist in the American Republic several conditions 
which specially tend to create such a temper. 

One of these is the unbounded freedom of discussion. Every 
view, every line of policy, has its fair chance before the people. 
No one can say that audience has been denied him, and com- 
fort himself with the hope that, when he is heard, the world 
will come round to him. Under a repressive government, the 
sense of grievance and injustice feeds the flame of resistance 
in a persecuted minority. But in a country like this, where 
the freedom of the press, the right of public meeting, and the 
right of association and agitation have been legally extended 
and are daily exerted, more widely than anywhere else in the 
world, there is nothing to awaken that sense. He whom the 
multitude condemns or ignores has no further court of appeal 
to look to. Borne has spoken. His cause has been heard and 
judgment has gone against him. 

Another is the intense faith which the Americans have in 
the soundness of their institutions, and in the future of their 
country. Foreign critics have said that they think themselves 
the special objects of the care of Divine Providence. If this 
be so, it is matter neither for surprise nor for sarcasm. They 



cbap.lxxxv THE FATALISM OF THE MULTITUDE 351 

are a religious people. They are trying, and thai on the larg- 
est scale, the most remarkable experiment in government the 
wan-Id has yet witnessed. They have more than once been sur- 
rounded by perils which affrighted the stoutest hearts, and 
they have escaped from these perils into peace and prosperity. 
There is among pious persons a deep conviction — one may 
often hear it expressed on platforms and from pulpits with evi- 
dent sincerity — that God has specially chosen the nation to 
work out a higher type of civilization than any other State has 
yet attained, and that this great work will surely be brought 
to a happy issue by the protecting hand that has so long guided 
it. And. even when the feeling does not take a theological ex- 
pression, the belief in what is called the " Mission of the Re- 
public " for all humanity is scarcely less ardent. But the 
foundation of the Republic is confidence in the multitude, in 
its honesty and good sense, in the certainty of its arriving at 
right conclusions. Pessimism is the luxury of a handful ; op- 
timism is the private delight, as well as public profession, of 
nine hundred and ninety-nine out of every thousand, for no- 
where does the individual associate himself more constantly 
and directly with the greatness of his country. 

Xow. such a faith in the people, and in the forces that sway 
them, disposes a man to acquiescence and submission. He can- 
not long hold that he is right and the multitude wrong. He 
cannot suppose that the country will ultimately suffer because 
it refuses to adopt what he urges upon it. As he comes of an 
energetic stock, he will use all proper means to state his views, 
and give them every chance of prevailing. But he submits 
more readily than an Englishman would do, ay, even to what 
an Englishman would think an injury to his private rights. 
When his legal right has been infringed, an American will con- 
fidently proceed to enforce at law his claim to redress, knowing 
that even against the government a just cause will prevail. 
But if he fails at law, the sense of his individual insignificance 
will still his voice. It may seem a trivial illustration to ob- 
serve that when a railway train is late, or a waggon drawn up 
opposite a warehouse door stops the horse-car for five minutes, 
the passengers take the delay far more coolly and uncomplain- 
ingly than Englishmen would do. But the feeling is the same 
as that which makes good citizens bear with the tyranny of 



352 PUBLIC OPINION 



Bosses. It is all in the course of nature. Others submit; why 
should one man resist ? What is he that he should make a 
fuss because he loses a few minutes, or is taxed too highly ? 
The sense of the immense multitude around him presses down 
the individual ; and, after all, he reflects, " things will come 
out right " in the end. 

It is hard adequately to convey the impression which the 
vastness of the country and the swift growth of its population 
make upon the European visitor. I well remember how it 
once came on me after climbing a high mountain in an Eastern 
State. All around was thick forest ; but the setting sun lit up 
peaks sixty or seventy miles away, and flashed here and there 
on the windings of some river past a town so far off as to seem 
only a spot of white. I opened my map, a large map, which I 
had to spread upon the rocks to examine, and tried to make 
out, as one would have done in Scotland or Switzerland, the 
points in the view. The map, however, was useless, because 
the whole area of the landscape beneath me covered only two 
or three square inches upon it. From such a height in Scot- 
land the eye would have ranged from sea to sea. But here 
when one tried to reckon how many more equally wide stretches 
of landscape lay between this peak and the Mississippi, which 
is itself only a third of the way across the continent, the cal- 
culation seemed endless and was soon abandoned. Many an 
Englishman comes by middle life to know nearly all England 
like a glove. He has travelled on all the great railroads ; 
there is hardly a large town in which he has not acquaintances, 
hardly a county whose scenery is not familiar to him. Bat no 
American can be familiar w r ith more than a small part of his 
country, for his country is a continent. And all Americans 
live their life through under the sense of this prodigious and 
daily growing multitude around them, which seems vaster the 
more you travel, and the more you realize its uniformity. 

We need not here inquire whether the fatalistic attitude I 
have sought to sketch is the source of more good or evil. It 
seems at any rate inevitable : nor does it fail to produce a sort 
of pleasure, for what the individual loses as an individual he 
seems in a measure to regain as one of the multitude. If the 
individual is not strong, he is at saiy rate as strong as any one 
else. His will counts for as much as any other will. He is 



chat, lxxxv THE FATALISM OF THE MULTITUDE 353 

overborne by no superiority. Most men are titter to make part 
of the multitude than to strive against it. Obedience is to 
most sweeter than independence ; the Roman Catholic Church 
inspires in its children a stronger affection than any form of 
Protestantism, for she takes their souls in charge, and assures 
them that, with obedience, all will be well. 

That which we are presently concerned to note is how greatly 
such a tendency as I have described facilitates the action of 
opinion as a governing power, enabling it to prevail more 
swiftly and more completely than in countries where men have 
not yet learned to regard the voice of the multitude as the 
voice of fate. Many submit willingly ; some unwillingly, yet 
they submit. Rarely does any one hold out and venture to tell 
the great majority of his countrymen that they are wrong. 

Moreover, public opinion acquires a solidity which strength- 
ens the whole body politic. Questions on which the masses 
have made up their minds pass out of the region of practical 
discussion. Controversy is confined to minor topics, and how- 
ever vehemently it may rage over these, it disturbs the great 
underlying matters of agreement no more than a tempest stirs 
the depths of the Atlantic. Public order becomes more easily 
maintained, because individuals and small groups have learned 
to submit even when they feel themselves aggrieved. The man 
who murmurs against the world, who continues to preach a 
hopeless cause, incurs contempt, and is apt to be treated as a 
sort of lunatic. He who is too wise to murmur and too proud 
to go on preaching to unheeding ears comes to think that if 
his doctrine is true, yet the time is not ripe for it. He may be 
in error; but if he is right, the world will ultimately see that 
he is right even without his effort. One way or another he 
finds it hard to believe that this vast mass and force of popular 
thought in which he lives and moves can be ultimately wrong. 
Securus iudicat orbis terrarum. 



VOL. II 2 A 



CHAPTER LXXXVI 

WHEREIX PUBLIC OPIXIOX FAILS 

Without anticipating the criticism of democratic govern- 
ment to be given in a later chapter, we may wind up the 
examination of public opinion by considering what are its 
merits as a governing and overseeing power, and, on the other 
hand, what defects, due either to inherent weakness or to 
the want of appropriate machinery, prevent it from attaining 
the ideal which the Americans have set before themselves. I 
begin with the defects. 

The obvious weakness of government by opinion is the diffi- 
culty of ascertaining it. English administrators in India la- 
ment the impossibility of learning the sentiments of the natives, 
because in the East the populations, the true masses, are dumb. 
The press is written by a handful of persons who, in becoming 
writers, have ceased to belong to the multitude, and the mul- 
titude does not read. The difficulties of Western statesmen 
are due to an opposite cause. The populations are highly 
articulate. Such is the din of voices that it is hard to say 
which cry prevails, which is swelled by many, which only by 
a few throats. The organs of opinion seem almost as numerous 
as the people themselves, and they are all engaged in represent- 
ing their own view as that of " the people." Like other valu- 
able articles, genuine opinion is surrounded by counterfeits. 
The one positive test applicable is that of an election, and an 
election can at best do no more than test the division of opinion 
between two or three great parties, leaving subsidiary issues 
uncertain, while in many cases the result depends so much on 
the personal merits of the candidates as to render interpreta- 
tion difficult. An American statesman is in no danger of 
consciously running counter to public opinion, but how is he 
to discover whether any particular opinion is making or losing 

354 



chap, lxxxvi WHEREIN PUBLIC OPINION FAILS 355 

way, how is he to gauge the voting strength its advocates can 

put forth, or the moral authority its advocates can exert? 
Elections cannot be further multiplied, for they are too numer- 
ous already. The referendum, or plan of submitting a specific 
question to the popular vote, is the logical resource, but it is 
troublesome and costly to take the votes of millions of people 
over an area so large as that of one of the greater States ; 
much more then is the method difficult to apply in Federal 
matters. This is the first drawback to the rule of public 
opinion. The choice of persons for offices is only an indirect 
and often unsatisfactory way of declaring views of policy, and 
as the elections at which such choices are made come at fixed 
intervals, time is lost in waiting for the opportunity of deliver- 
ing the popular judgment. 

The f miners of the American Constitution may not have 
perceived that in labouring to produce a balance, as well between 
the National and State governments as between the Executive 
and Congress, in weakening each single authority in the govern- 
ment by dividing powers and functions among each of them, 
they were throwing upon the nation at large, that is, upon 
unorganized public opinion, more work than it had ever dis- 
charged in England, or could duly discharge in a country so 
divided by distances and jealousies as the United States then 
were. Distances and jealousies have been lessened. But as 
the progress of democracy has increased the self-distrust and 
submission to the popular voice of legislators, so the defects 
incident to a system of restrictions and balances have been 
aggravated. Thus the difficulty inherent in government by 
public opinion makes itself seriously felt. It can express 
desires, but has not the machinery for turning them into 
practical schemes. It can determine ends, but is less fit to 
examine and select means. Yet it has weakened the organs 
by which the business of finding appropriate means ought to 
be discharged. 

American legislatures are bodies with limited powers and sit- 
ting for short terms. Their members are less qualified for the 
work of constructive legislation than are those of most Euro- 
pean chambers. They are accustomed to consider themselves 
delegates from their respective States and districts, respon- 
sible to those districts, rather than councillors of the whole 



356 PUBLIC OPINION 



nation labouring for its general interests ; and they have no 
executive leaders, seeing that no official sits either in Congress 
or in a State legislature. Hence if at any time the people desire 
measures which do not merely repeal a law or direct an appro- 
priation, but establish some administrative scheme, or mark out 
some positive line of financial policy, or provide some body of 
rules for dealing with such a topic as bankruptcy, railroad or canal 
communications, the management of public lands, and so forth, 
the people cannot count on having their wishes put into tangible 
workable shape. When members of Congress or of a State 
legislature think the country desires legislation, they begin to 
prepare bills, but the want of leadership and of constructive 
skill often prevents such bills from satisfying the needs of the 
case, and a timidity which fears to go beyond what opinion 
desires, may retard the accomplishment of the public wish; 
while, in the case of State legislatures, constructive skill is 
seldom present. Public opinion is slow and clumsy in grap- 
pling with large practical problems. It looks at them, talks 
incessantly about them, complains of Congress for not solving 
them, is distressed that they do not solve themselves. But 
they remain unsolved. Vital decisions have usually hung fire 
longer than they would have been likely to do in European 
countries. The war of 1812 seemed on the point of breaking 
out over and over again before it came at last. The absorption 
of Texas was a question of many years. The Extension of 
Slavery question came before the nation in 1819 ; after 1840 it 
was the chief source of trouble; year by year it grew more 
menacing ; year by year the nation was seen more clearly to be 
drifting towards the breakers. Everybody felt that something 
must be done. But it was the function of no one authority in 
particular to discover a remedy, as it would have been the func- 
tion of a cabinet in Europe. I do not say the sword might not 
in any case have been invoked, for the temperature of Southern 
feeling had been steadily rising to war point. But the history 
of 1840-60 leaves an impression of the dangers which may 
result from fettering the constitutional organs of government, 
and trusting to public sentiment to bring things right. Some 
other national questions, less dangerous, but serious, are now 
in the same condition. The Currency question is an incessant 
source of disquiet. The question of reducing the surplus 



OttAP. i.xxxvi WHEREIN PUBLIC OPINION FAILS 867 

national revenue puzzled statesmen and the people at large 
longer than a similar question would be suffered to do in Eu- 
rope, and when solved in 1890 by the passage of the Dependent 
Pension bill, was solved to the public injury in a purely dema- 
gogic or electioneering spirit. I doubt whether any European 
legislature would have so openly declined the duty of consider- 
ing the interests of the country, and abandoned itself so undis- 
guisedly to the pursuit of the votes of a particular section of 
the population. And the same thing holds, mutatis mutandis, 
of State governments. In them also there is no set of persons 
whose special duty it is to find remedies for admitted evils. 
The structure of the government provides the requisite ma- 
chinery neither for forming nor for guiding a popular opinion, 
disposed of itself to recognize only broad and patent facts, and 
to be swayed only by such obvious reasons as it needs little 
reflection to follow. Admirable practical acuteness, admirable 
ingenuity in inventing and handling machinery, whether of 
iron and wood or of human beings, coexist, in the United 
States, with an aversion to the investigation of general princi- 
ples as well as trains of systematic reasoning. 1 The liability 
to be caught by fallacies, the inability to recognize facts which 
are not seen but must be inferentially found to exist, the in- 
capacity to imagine a future which must result from the un- 
checked operation of present forces, these are indeed the 
defects of the ordinary citizen in all countries, and if they are 
conspicuous in America, it is only because the ordinary citizen, 
who is more intelligent there than elsewhere, is also more 
potent. 

It may be replied to these observations, which are a criti- 
cism as well upon the American frame of government as upon 
public opinion, that the need for constructive legislation is' 
small in America, because the habit of the country is to leave 
things to themselves. This is not really the fact. A great 
State has always problems of administration to deal with; 
these problems do not become less grave as time runs on, and 
the hand of government is beginning to-day to be invoked in 

1 To say this is not to ignore the influence exercised on the national mind 
by the "glittering generalities" of the Declaration of Independence; nor the 
theoretical grounds taken up for and against State Rights and Slavery, and 
especially the highly logical scheme excogitated by Calhoun. 



358 PUBLIC OPINION 



America for many purposes thought to be of common utility 
with which legislation did not formerly intermeddle. 

There is more force in the remark that we must remember 
how much is gained as well as lost by the slow and hesitating 
working of public opinion in the United States. So tremen- 
dous a force would be dangerous if it moved rashly. Acting 
over and gathered from an enormous area, in which there exist 
many local differences, it needs time, often a long time, to be- 
come conscious of the preponderance of one set of tendencies 
over another. The elements both of local difference and of 
class difference must be (so to speak) well shaken up together, 
and each part brought into contact with the rest, before the 
mixed liquid can produce a precipitate in the form of a practi- 
cal conclusion. And in this is seen the difference between the 
excellence as a governing power of opinion in the whole Union, 
and opinion within the limits of a particular State. The sys- 
tems of constitutional machinery by which public sentiment 
acts are similar in the greater and in the smaller area ; the 
constitutional maxims practically identical. But public opin- 
ion, which moves slowly, and, as a rule, temperately, in the 
field of national affairs, is sometimes hasty and reckless in 
State affairs. The population of a State may be of one colour, 
as that of the North-western States is preponderatingly agri- 
cultural, or may contain few persons of education and political 
knowledge, or may fall under the influence of a demagogue or a 
clique, or may be possessed by some local passion. Thus its 
opinion may want breadth, sobriety, wisdom, and the result be 
seen in imprudent or unjust measures. The latest constitution 
of California, the Granger legislation of Illinois, Iowa, and 
Wisconsin, the tampering with their public debts by several 
States, are familiar instances of follies, to use no harder name, 
which local opinion approved, but which would have been im- 
possible in the Federal government, where the controlling 
opinion is that of a large and complex nation, and where the 
very deficiencies of one section or one class serve to correct 
qualities which may exist in excess in some other. 

The sentiment of the nation at large, being comparatively 
remote, acts but slowly in restraining the vagaries or curing 
the faults of one particular State. The dwellers on the Pacific 
coast care very little for the criticism of the rest of the coun- 



chap, lxxxvi WHEREIN PUBLIC opinion fails 859 

try on their anti-Chinese violence; Pennsylvania and Virginia 
disregarded the best opinions of the Union when they so dealt 
with their debts as to affect their credit; those parts of the 
South in which homicide goes unpunished, except by the rela- 
tives of the slain, are unmoved by the reproaches and jests of 
the more peaceable and well-regulated States. The fact shows 
how deej) the division of the country into self-governing com- 
monwealths goes, making men feel that they have a right to 
do what they will with their own, so long as the power remains 
to them, whatever may be the purely moral pressure from 
those who, though they can advise, have no title to interfere. 
And it shows also, in the teeth of the old doctrine that repub- 
licanism was fit only for small communities, that evils peculiar 
to a particular district, which might be ruinous in that district 
if it stood alone, become less dangerous when it forms part of 
a vast country. 

We may go on to ask how far American opinion succeeds 
in the simpler duty, which opinion must discharge in all 
countries, of supervising the conduct of business, and judging 
the current legislative work which Congress and other legis- 
latures turn out. 

Here again the question turns not so much on the excellence 
of public opinion as on the adequacy of the constitutional 
machinery provided for its action. That supervision and criti- 
cism may be effective, it must be easy to fix on particular per- 
sons the praise for work well done, the blame for work neglected 
or ill-performed. Experience shoAvs that good men are the 
better for a sense of their responsibility and ordinary men 
useless without it. The free governments of Europe and the 
British colonies have gone on the principle of concentrating 
power in order to be able to fix responsibility. The American 
plan of dividing powers, eminent as are its other advantages, 
makes it hard to fix responsibility. The executive can usually 
allege that it had not received from the legislature the author- 
ity necessary to enable it to grapple with a difficulty ; while 
in the legislature there is no one person or group of persons 
on whom the blame due for that omission or refusal can be 
laid. Suppose some gross dereliction of dut}' to have occurred. 
The people are indignant. A victim is wanted, who, for 
the sake of the example to others, ought to be found and 



360 PUBLIC OPINION i>art iv 

punished, either by law or by general censure. But perhaps 
he cannot be found, because out of several persons or bodies 
who have been concerned, it is hard to apportion the guilt and 
award the penalty. Where the sin lies at the door of Con- 
gress, it is not always possible to arraign either the Speaker or 
the dominant majority, or any particular party leader. Where 
a State legislature or a city council has misconducted itself, the 
difficulty is still greater, because party ties are less strict in such 
a body, proceedings are less fully reported, and both parties are 
apt to be equally implicated in the abuses of private legisla- 
tion. Xot uncommonly there is presented the sight of an 
exasperated public going about like a roaring lion, seeking 
whom it may devour, and finding no one. The results in State 
affairs would be much worse were it not for the existence of 
the governor with his function of vetoing bills, because in 
many cases, knowing that he can be made answerable for the 
passage of a bad measure, he is forced up to the level of a 
virtue beyond that of the natural man in politics. And the 
disposition to seek a remedy for municipal misgovernment in 
increasing the powers of the mayor illustrates the same prin- 
ciple. 

Although the failures of public opinion in overseeing the 
conduct of its servants are primarily due to the want of appro- 
priate machinery, they are increased by its characteristic tem- 
per. Quick and strenuous in great matters, it is heedless in 
small matters, over-kindly and indulgent in all matters. It 
suffers weeds to go on growing till they have struck deep root. 
It has so much to do in looking after both Congress and its 
State legislature, a host of executive officials, and perhaps a 
city council also, that it may impartially tolerate the misdoings 
of all till some important issue arises. Even when jobs are 
exposed by the press, each particular job seems below the 
attention of a busy people or the anger of a good-natured 
people, till the sum total of jobbery becomes a scandal. To 
catch and to hold the attention of the people is the chief diffi- 
culty as well as the first duty of an American reformer. 

The long-suffering tolerance of public opinion towards incom- 
petence and misconduct in officials and public men generally, is 
a feature which has struck recent European observers. It is 
the more remarkable because nowhere is executive ability 



cnxv. i.xxxvi WlII.Kl.lX PUBLIC OPINION FAILS &8J 

more valued in the management of private conoernaj in which 
the stress of competition forces every manager bo secure at 
whatever price the most able subordinates. We may attri- 
bute it partly to the good nature of *the people, whioh makes 
them over-lenient to nearly all criminals, partly to the pre- 
occupation with their private affairs of the most energetic 
and useful men, who therefore cannot spare time to unearth 
abuses and get rid of offenders, partly to an indifference in- 
duced by the fatalistic sentiment which I have already sought 
to describe. This fatalism acts in two ways. Being optimis- 
tic, it disposes each man to believe that things will come out 
right whether he "takes hold" himself or not, and that it is 
therefore no great matter whether a particular King or Boss 
is suppressed. And in making each individual man feel his 
insignificance, it disposes him to leave to the multitude the 
task of setting right what is every one else's business just as 
much as his own. An American does not smart under the 
same sense of personal wrong from the mismanagement of his 
public business, from the exaction of high city taxes and their 
malversation, as an Englishman would in the like case. Tf he 
suffers, he consoles himself by thinking that he suffers with 
others, as part of the general order of things, which he is no 
more called upon to correct than are his neighbours. 

It may be charged as a weak point in the rule of public 
opinion, that by fostering this habit it has chilled activity and 
dulled the sense of responsibility among the leaders in political 
life. It has made them less eager and strenuous in striking 
out ideas and plans of their own, less bold in propounding 
those plans, more sensitive to the reproach, even more feared 
in America than in England, of being a crotchet-monger or a 
doctrinaire. That new or unpopular ideas are more frequently 
started by isolated thinkers, economists, social reformers, than 
by statesmen, may be set down to the fact that practical states- 
manship indisposes men to theorizing. But in America the 
practical statesman is apt to be timid in advocacy as well as 
infertile in suggestion. He seems to be always listening for 
the popular voice, always afraid to commit himself to a view 
which may turn out unpopular. It is a fair conjecture that this 
may be due to his being by his profession a far more habitual 
worshipper as well as observer of public opinion, than will be 



362 PUBLIC OPINION part iv 

the case with men who are by profession thinkers and students, 
men who are less purely Americans of to-day, because under 
the influence of the literature as well of past times as of con- 
temporary Europe. Philosophy, taking the word to include 
the historical study of the forces which work upon mankind 
at large, is needed by a statesman not only as a consolation 
for the disappointments of his career, but as a corrective to 
the superstitions and tremors which the service of the multi- 
tude implants. 

The enormous force of public opinion is a danger to the 
people themselves, as well as their leaders. It no longer 
makes them tyrannical. But it fills them with an undue con- 
fidence in their wisdom, their virtue, and their freedom. It 
may be thought that a nation which uses freedom well can 
hardly have too much freedom; yet even such a nation may 
be too much inclined to think freedom an absolute and all-suffi- 
cient good, to seek truth only in the voice of the majority, to 
mistake prosperity for greatness. Such a nation, seeing noth- 
ing but its own triumphs, and hearing nothing but its own 
praises, seems to need a succession of men like the prophets of 
Israel to rouse the people out of their self-complacency, to 
refresh their moral ideals, to remind them that the life is more 
than meat, and the body more than raiment, and that to whom 
much is given of them shall much also be required. If Amer- 
ica has no prophets of this order, she fortunately possesses 
two classes of men who maintain a wholesome irritation such 
as that which Socrates thought it his function to apply to the 
Athenian people. These are the instructed critics who exert 
a growing influence on opinion through the higher newspapers, 
and by literature generally, and the philanthropic reformers 
who tell more directly upon the multitude, particularly through 
the churches. Both classes combined may not as yet be doing 
all that is needed. But the significant point is that their influ- 
ence represents not an ebbing, but a flowing tide. If the evils 
they combat exist on a larger scale than in past times, they, 
too, are more active and more courageous in rousing and repre- 
hending their fellow-countrymen. 



CHAPTER LXXXVII 

WHEREIN PUBLIC OPINION SUCCEEDS 

In the examination of the actualities of politics as well as of 
forms of government, faults are more readily perceived than 
merits. Everybody is struck by the mistakes which a ruler 
makes, or by evils which a constitution fails to avert, while 
less praise than is due may be bestowed in respect of the 
temptations that have been resisted, or the prudence with 
which the framers of the government have avoided defects 
from which other countries suffer. Thus the general prosper- 
ity of the United States and the success of their people in all 
kinds of private enterprises, philanthropic as well as gainful, 
throws into relief the blemishes of their government, and 
makes it the more necessary to point out in what respects the 
power of public opinion overcomes those blemishes, and main- 
tains a high level of good feeling and well-being in the nation. 

The European observer of the working of American institu- 
tions is apt to sum up his conclusions in two contrasts. One 
is between the excellence of the Constitution and the vices of 
the party system that has laid hold of it, discovered its weak 
points, and brought in a swarm of evils. The Fathers, he ssijs, 
created the Constitution good, but their successors have sought 
out many inventions. The other contrast is between the faults 
of the political class and the merits of the people at large. 
The men who work the Machine are often selfish and unscru- 
pulous. The people, for whose behoof it purports to be worked, 
and who suffer themselves to be " run " by the politicians, are 
honest, intelligent, fair-minded. No such contrast exists any- 
where else in the world. Either the politicians are better 
than they are in America, or the people are worse. 

The causes of this contrast, which to many observers has 
seemed the capital fact of American politics, have been already 



364 PUBLIC OPINION part iv 

explained. It brings out the truth, on which too much stress 
cannot be laid, that the strong point of the American system, 
the dominant fact of the situation, is the healthiness of public 
opinion, and the control which it exerts. As Abraham Lin- 
coln said in his famous contest with Douglas, " With public 
sentiment on its side, everything succeeds ; with public senti- 
ment against it, nothing succeeds." 

The conscience and common sense of the nation as a whole 
keep down the evils which have crept into the working of the 
Constitution, and may in time extinguish them. Public opin- 
ion is a sort of atmosphere, fresh, keen, and full of sunlight, 
like that of the American cities, and this sunlight kills many 
of those noxious germs which are hatched where politicians 
congregate. That which, varying a once famous phrase, we 
may call the genius of universal publicity, has some disagree- 
able results, but the wholesome ones are greater and more 
numerous. Selfishness, injustice, cruelty, tricks, and jobs of 
all sorts shun the light; to expose them is to defeat them. 
No serious evils, no rankling sore in the body politic, can re- 
main long concealed, and when disclosed, it is half destroyed. 
So long as the opinion of a nation is sound, the main lines of 
its policy cannot go far wrong, whatever waste of time and 
money may be incurred in carrying them out. It was observed 
in the last chapter that opinion is too vague and indeterminate 
a thing to be capable of considering and selecting the best 
means for the end on which it has determined. The counter- 
part of that remark is that the opinion of a whole nation, a 
united and tolerably homogeneous nation, is, when at last it 
does express itself, the most competent authority to determine 
the ends of national policy. 1 In European countries, legisla- 
tures and cabinets sometimes take decisions which the nation, 
which had scarcely thought of the matter till the decision has 
been taken, is ultimately found to disapprove. In America, 
men feel that the nation is the only power entitled to say what 

1 The distinction between means and ends is, of course, one which it is hard 
to draw in practice, because most ends are means to some larger end which 
embraces them. Still if we understand by ends the main and leading objects 
of national policy, including the spirit in which the government ought to be 
administered, we shall find that these are, if sometimes slowly, yet more clearly 
apprehended in America than in Europe, and less frequently confounded with 
subordinate and transitory issues. 



cum', i.w.wii WHEREIN PUBLIC OPINION SUCCEEDS 365 

it wants, and that, till it has manifested its wishes, nothing 

must be done to commit it. It may sometimes be long in 
■peaking, but when it speaks, it speaks with a weight which 
the wisest governing class cannot claim. 

The frame of the American government has assumed and 
trusted to the activity of public opinion, not only as the power 
which must correct and remove the difficulties due to the re- 
strietions imposed on each department, and to possible colli- 
sions between them, but as the influence which must supply the 
defects incidental to a system which works entirely by the 
machinery of popular elections. Under a system of elections 
one man's vote is as good as another, the vicious and ignorant 
have as much weight as the wise and good. A system of elec- 
tions might be imagined w r hich would provide no security for 
due deliberation or full discussion, a system which, w r hile dem- 
ocratic in name, recognizing no privilege, and referring every- 
thing to the vote of the majority, would in practice be hasty, 
violent, tyrannical. It is with such a possible democracy that 
one has to contrast the rule of public opinion as it exists in the 
United States. Opinion declares itself legally through elec- 
tions. But opinion is at work at other times also, and has 
other methods of declaring itself. It secures full discussion of 
issues of policy and of the characters of men. It suffers noth- 
ing to be concealed. It listens patiently to all the arguments 
that are addressed to it. Eloquence, education, wisdom, the 
authority derived from experience and high character, tell 
upon it in the long run, and have, perhaps not always their 
due influence, but yet a great and growing influence. Thus a 
democracy governing itself through a constantly active public 
opinion, and not solely by its intermittent mechanism of elec- 
tions, tends to become patient, tolerant, reasonable, and is more 
likely to be unembittered and unvexed by class divisions. 

It is the existence of such a public opinion as this, the prac- 
tice of freely and constantly reading, talking, and judging of 
public affairs with a view to voting thereon, rather than the 
mere possession of political rights, that gives to popular gov- 
ernment that educative and stimulative power which is so fre- 
quently claimed as its highest merit. Those who, in the last 
generation, were forced to argue for democratic government 
against oligarchies or despots, were perhaps inclined, if not to 



366 PUBLIC OPINION 



exaggerate the value of extended suffrage and a powerful legis- 
lature, at least to pass too lightly over the concomitant con- 
ditions by whose help such institutions train men to use liberty 
well. History does not support the doctrine that the mere en- 
joyment of power fits large masses of men, any more than 
individuals or classes, for its exercise. Along with that enjoy- 
ment there must be found some one or more of various auspi- 
cious conditions, such as a direct and fairly equal interest in the 
common welfare, the presence of a class or group of persons 
respected and competent to guide, an absence of religious or 
race hatreds, a high level of education or at least of intelli- 
gence, old habits of local self-government, the practice of un- 
limited free discussion. In America it is not simply the habit 
of voting, but the briskness and breeziness of the whole atmo- 
sphere of public life, and the process of obtaining information 
and discussing it, of hearing and judging each side, that form 
the citizen's intelligence. True it is that he would gain less 
from this process if it did not lead up to the exercise of voting 
power : he would not learn so much on the road did not the 
polling-booth stand at the end of it. But if it were his lot, 
as it is that of the masses in some European countries, to 
exercise his right of suffrage under few of these favouring 
conditions, the educational value of the vote would become 
comparatively small. It is the habit of breathing as well as 
helping to form public opinion that cultivates, develops, trains 
the average American. It gives him a sense of personal re- 
sponsibility stronger, because more constant, than exists in 
those free countries of Europe where he commits his power to 
a legislature. Sensible that his eye ought to be always fixed 
on the conduct of affairs, he grows accustomed to read and 
judge, not indeed profoundly, sometimes erroneously, usually 
under party influences, but yet with a feeling that the judg- 
ment is his own. He has a sense of ownership in the govern- 
ment, and therewith a kind of independence of manner as well 
as of mind very different from the demissness of the humbler 
classes of the Old World. And the consciousness of responsi- 
bility which goes along with this laudable pride, brings forth 
the peaceable fruits of moderation. As the Greeks thought 
that the old families ruled their households more gently than 
upstarts did, so citizens who have been born to power, born 



chap, i.xxwn WHEREIN VI BLIC OPINION SUCCEEDS 367 

into an atmosphere of legal right and constitutional authority, 
are sobered by their privileges. Despite their natural quick- 
ness and eagerness, the native Americans are politically pa- 
tient. They are disposed to try soft means first, to expect 
others to bow to that force of opinion which they themselves 
recognize. Opposition does not incense them ; danger does 
not, by making them lose their heads, hurry them into precip- 
itate courses. In no country does a beaten minority take a 
defeat so well. Admitting that the blood of the race counts 
for something in producing that peculiar coolness and self-con- 
trol in the midst of an external effervescence of enthusiasm, 
which is the most distinctive feature of the American masses, 
the habit of ruling by public opinion and obeying it counts for 
even more. It was far otherwise in the South before the war, 
but the South was not a democracy, and its public opinion was 
that of a passionate class. 

The best evidence for this view is to be found in the educative 
influence of opinion on new-comers. Any one can see how 
severe a strain is put on democratic institutions by the influx 
every year of half a million of untrained Europeans, not to 
speak of those French Canadians who now settle in the North- 
eastern States. Being in most States admitted to full civic 
rights before they have come to shake off European notions 
and habits, these strangers enjoy political power before they 
either share or are amenable to American opinion. Such im- 
migrants are at first not merely a dead weight in the ship, but 
a weight which party managers can, in city politics, so shift as 
to go near upsetting her. They follow blindly leaders of their 
own race, are not moved by discussion, exercise no judgment of 
their own. This lasts for some years, probably for the rest of 
life with those who are middle-aged when they arrive. It lasts 
also with those who remain herded together in large masses, 
and makes them a dangerous element in manufacturing and 
mining districts. But the younger sort, when, if they be 
foreigners, they have learnt English, and when, dispersed among 
Americans so as to be able to learn from them, they have im- 
bibed the sentiments and ideas of the country, are thenceforth 
scarcely to be distinguished from the native population. They 
are more American than the Americans in their desire to put 
on the character of their new country. This peculiar gift which 



368 PUBLIC OPINION 



the Republic possesses, of quickly dissolving and assimilating 
the foreign bodies that are poured into her, imparting to them 
her own qualities of orderliness, good sense, self-restraint, a 
willingness to bow to the will of the majority, is mainly due 
to the all-pervading force of opinion, which the new-comer, so 
soon as he has formed social and business relations with the 
natives, breathes in daily till it insensibly transmutes him. 
Their faith, and a sentiment of resentment against England, 
keep up among the Irish a body of separate opinion, which for 
a time resists the solvent power of its American environment. 
But the public schools finish the work of the factory and the 
newspapers. The Irish immigrant's son is an American citizen 
for all other purposes, even if he retain, which he sometimes 
unfortunately does, the hereditary Anglophobia. 

It is chiefly the faith in publicity that gives to the American 
public their peculiar buoyancy, and what one may call their 
airy hopefulness in discussing even the weak points of their 
system. They are always telling you that they have no 
skeleton closets, nothing to keep back. They know, and are 
content that all the world should know, the worst as well as 
the best of themselves. They have a boundless faith in free 
inquiry and full discussion. They admit the possibility of any 
number of temporary errors and delusions. But to suppose 
that a vast nation should, after hearing everything, canvassing 
everything, and trying all the preliminary experiments it has 
a mind to, ultimately go wrong by mistaking . its own true 
interests, seems to them a sort of blasphemy against the human 
intelligence and its Creator. 

They claim for opinion that its immense power enables them 
to get on with but little government. Some evils which the law 
and its officers are in other countries required to deal with are 
here averted or cured by the mere force of opinion, which 
shrivels them up when its rays fall on them. As it is not the 
product of any one class, and is unwilling to recognize classes 
at all, for it would stand self-condemned as un-American if it 
did, it discourages anything in the nature of class legislation. 
Where a particular section of the people, such, for instance, as 
the Western farmers or the Eastern operatives, think themselves 
aggrieved, they clamour for the measures thought likely to help 
them. The farmers legislated against the railroads, the labour 



chap, lxxxvii WHEREIN PUBLIC OPINION SUCCEEDS 869 

party asks an eight-hour law. But whereas on the European 
continent such a class would think and act as a class, hostile to 
other classes, and might resolve to pursue its own objects at 
whatever risk to the nation, in America national opinion, which 
every one recognizes as the arbiter, mitigates these feelings, 
and puts the advocates of the legislation which any class 
demands upon showing that their schemes are compatible with 
the paramount interest of the whole community. To say that 
there is no legislation in America which, like the class legis- 
lation of Europe, has thrown undue burdens on the poor, while 
jealously guarding the pleasures and pockets of the rich, is to 
say little, because where the poorer citizens have long been a 
numerical majority, invested with political power, they will 
evidently take care of themselves. But the opposite danger 
might have been feared, that the poor would have turned the 
tables on the rich, thrown the whole burden of taxation upon 
them, and disregarded in the supposed interest of the masses 
what are called the rights of property. Not only has this not 
been attempted — it has been scarcely even suggested (except, 
of course, by socialists from Europe), and it excites no serious 
apprehension. There is nothing in the machinery of govern- 
ment that could do more than delay it for a time, did the 
masses desire it. What prevents it is the honesty and common 
sense of the citizens generally, who are convinced that the 
interests of all classes are substantially the same, and that 
justice is the highest of those interests. Equality, open com- 
petition, a fair field to everybody, every stimulus to industry, 
and every security for its fruits, these they hold to be the self- 
evident principles of national prosperity. 

If public opinion is heedless in small things, it usually checks 
measures w r hich, even if not oppressive, are palpably selfish or 
unwise. If before a mischievous bill passes, its opponents can 
get the attention of the people fixed upon it, its chances are 
slight. All sorts of corrupt or pernicious schemes which are 
hatched at Washington or in the State legislatures are aban- 
doned because it is felt that the people will not stand them, 
although they could be easily pushed through those not too 
scrupulous assemblies. There have been instances of proposals 
which took people at first by their plausibility, but which the 
criticism of opinion riddled with its unceasing fire till at last 

VOL. U 2 B 



370 PUBLIC OPINION 



they were quietly dropped. It was in this way that President 
Grant's attempt to annex San Domingo failed. He had made 
a treaty for the purpose, which fell through for want of the 
requisite two-thirds majority in the Senate, but he persisted 
in the scheme until at last the disapproval of the general pub- 
lic, which had grown stronger by degrees and found expression 
through the leading newspapers, warned him to desist. After 
the war, there was at first in many quarters a desire to punish 
the Southern leaders for what they had made the North suffer. 
But by degrees the feeling died away, the sober sense of the 
whole North restraining the passions of those who had coun- 
selled vengeance ; and, as every one knows, there was never a 
civil war or rebellion, whichever one is to call it, followed by 
so few severities. 

Public opinion often fails to secure the appointment of the 
best men to places, but where undivided responsibility can be 
fixed on the appointing authority, it prevents, as those who are 
behind the scenes know, countless bad appointments for which 
politicians intrigue. Considering the power of party managers 
over the Federal executive, and the low sense of honour and 
public duty as regards patronage among politicians, the leading 
posts are filled, if not by the most capable men, yet seldom by 
bad ones. The Federal judges, for instance, are, and have 
always been, men of high professional standing and stainless 
character. The same may be, though less generally, said of 
the upper Federal officials in the North and West. That no 
similar praise can be bestowed on the exercise of Federal pat- 
ronage in the Southern States since the war, is an illustration 
of the view I am stating. As the public opinion of the South 
(that is to say, of the whites who make opinion there) has 
been steadily hostile to the Republican party, which com- 
manded the executive during the twenty years from 1865 to 
1885, the Republican party managers were indifferent to it, 
because they had nothing to gain or to lose from it. Hence 
they made appointments without regard to it. Northern 
opinion knows comparatively little of the details of Southern 
politics and the character of officials who act there, so that 
they might hope to escape the censure of their supporters in 
the North. Hence they jobbed their patronage in the South 
with unblushing cynicism, using Federal posts there as a means 



chap, lxxxto WHEREIN PUBLIC OPINION SUCCEEDS 371 

not merely of rewarding party services, but also of providing 
local white leaders and organizers to the coloured Southern 
Republicans. Their different behaviour here and in the .North 
therefore shows that it has not been public virtue, but the fear 
of public opinion, that lias made their Northern appointments 
on the whole respectable, while those in the South have been 
so much the reverse. The same phenomenon has been noticed 
in Great Britain. Jobs are frequent and scandalous in the 
inverse ratio to the notice they are likely to attract. 1 

In questions of foreign policy, opinion is a valuable reserve 
force. When demonstrations are made by party leaders in- 
tended to capture the vote of some particular section, the native 
Americans only smile. But they watch keenly the language 
held and the acts done by the State Department (Foreign 
Office), and, while determined to support the President in vin- 
dicating the rights of American citizens, would be found ready 
to check any demand or act going beyond their legal rights 
which could tend to embroil them with a foreign power. There 
is still a touch of spread-eagleism and an occasional want of 
courtesy and taste among public speakers and journalists w r hen 
they refer to other countries ; and there is a determination in 
all classes to keep European interference at a distance. But 
among the ordinary native citizens one finds (I think) less ob- 
trusive selfishness, less Chauvinism, less cynicism in declaring 
one's own national interests to be paramount to those of other 
States, than in any of the great States of Europe. Justice and 
equity are more generally recognized as binding upon nations 
no less than on individuals. Whenever humanity comes into 
question, the heart of the people is sound. The treatment of 
the Indians reflects little credit on the Western settlers who 
have come in contact with them, and almost as little on the 
Federal government, whose efforts to protect them have been 
often foiled by the faults of its own agents, or by its own want 

1 It has often been remarked that posts of the same class are more jobbed 
by the British executive in Scotland than in England, and in Ireland than in 
Scotland, because it is harder to rouse Parliament, which in Great Britain 
discharges much of the function which public opinion discharges in America, 
to any interest in an appointment made in one of the smaller countries. In 
Great Britain a minister making a bad appointment has to fear a hostile 
motion (though Parliament is over-lenient to jobs) which may displace him ; 
in the United States a President is under no such apprehension. It is only 
to opinion that he is responsible. 



372 PUBLIC OPINION 



of promptitude and foresight. But the wish of the people 
at large has always been to deal generously with the aborigines, 
nor have appeals on their behalf, such as those so persistently 
and eloquently made by the late Mrs. Helen Jackson, ever 
failed to command the sympathy and assent of the country. 

Throughout these chapters I have been speakiDg chiefly of 
the Northern States and chiefly of the present, for America 
is a country which changes fast. But the conduct of the 
Southern people, since their defeat in 1865, illustrates the 
tendency of underlying national traits to reassert themselves 
when disturbing conditions have passed away. Before the 
war the public opinion of the Slave States, and especially of 
the planting States, was practically the opinion of a class, — 
the small and comparatively rich landowning aristocracy. The 
struggle for the defence of their institution had made this 
opinion fierce and intolerant. To a hatred of the Abolitionists, 
whom it thought actuated by the wish to rob and humiliate the 
South, it joined a misplaced contempt for what it deemed the 
money-grubbing and peace-at-any-price spirit of the Northern 
people generally. So long as the subjugated States were ruled 
by arms, and the former " rebels " excluded by disfranchise- 
ment from the government of their States, this bitterness 
remained. When the restoration of self-government, following 
upon the liberation of the Confederate prisoners and the 
amnesty, had shown the magnanimity of the North, its clem- 
ency, its wish to forget and forgive, its assumption that both 
sides would shake hands and do their best for their common 
country, the hearts of the Southern men were conquered. 
Opinion went round. Frankly, one might almost say cheer- 
fully, it recognized the inevitable. It stopped those outrages 
on the negroes which the law had been unable to repress. It 
began to regain " touch " of, it has now almost fused itself 
with, the opinion of the North and West. No one Southern 
leader or group can be credited with this : it was the general 
sentiment of the people that brought it about. Still less do 
the Northern politicians deserve the praise of the peace-mak- 
ers, for many among them tried for political purposes to fan 
or to rekindle the flame of suspicion in the North. It was the 
opinion of the North generally, more liberal than its guides, 
which dictated not merely forgiveness, but the restoration of 



qhaf. lxxxvii WHEREIN PUBLIC OPINION SUCCEEDS 373 

equal civic rights. Nor is this the only case in which the 
people have proved themselves to have a higher and a truer 
inspiration than the politicians. 

It has been observed that the all-subduing power of the 
popular voice may tell against the appearance of great states- 
men by dwarfing aspiring individualities, by teaching men to 
discover and obey the tendencies of their age rather than rise 
above them and direct them. If this happens in America, it is 
not because the American people fail to appreciate and follow 
and exalt such eminent men as fortune bestows upon it. It 
has a great capacity for loyalty, even for hero-worship. " Our 
people," said an experienced American publicist to me, "are in 
reality hungering for great men, and the warmth with which 
eveu pinchbeck geniuses, men who have anything showy or 
taking about them, anything that is deemed to betoken a 
strong individuality, are followed and glorified in spite of 
intellectual emptiness, and perhaps even moral shortcomings, 
is the best proof of the fact." Henry Clay was the darling of 
his party for many years, as Jefferson, with less of personal 
fascination, had been in the preceding generation. Daniel 
Webster retained the devotion of New England long after it 
had become clear that his splendid intellect was mated to a 
far from noble character. A kind of dictatorship was yielded 
to Abraham Lincoln, whose memory is cherished almost like 
that of Washington himself. Whenever a man appears with 
something taking or forcible about him, he becomes the object 
of so much popular interest and admiration that those cooler 
heads who perceive his faults, and perhaps dread his laxity of 
principle, reproach the proneness of their less discerning 
countrymen to make an idol out of wood or clay. The career 
of Andrew Jackson is a case in point, though it may be hoped 
that the intelligence of the people would estimate such a char- 
acter more truly to-day than it did sixty years ago. I doubt 
if there be any country where a really brilliant man, confident 
in his own strength, and adding the charm of a striking person- 
ality to the gift of popular eloquence, would find an easier 
path to fame and power, and would exert more influence over 
the minds and emotions of the multitude. Such a man, speak- 
ing to the people with the independence of conscious strength, 
would find himself appreciated and respected. 



374 PUBLIC OPINION part iv 

Controversy is still bitter, more profuse in personal imputa- 
tions than one expects to find it where there are no grave 
issues to excuse excitement. But in this respect also there is 
an improvement. Partisans are reckless, but the mass of the 
people lends itself less to acrid partisanship than it did in the 
time of Jackson, or in those first days of the Republic which 
were so long looked back to as a sort of heroic age. Public 
opinion grows more temperate, more mellow, and assuredly 
more tolerant. Its very strength disposes it to bear with 
opposition or remonstrance. It respects itself too much to 
wish to silence any voice. 



PAET V 

ILLUSTRATIONS AND REFLECTIONS 



[This Part contains some illustrations, drawn from recent American 
history, of the working of political institutions and public opinion, 
together with observations on several political questions for which 
no fitting place could be found in the preceding Parts.] 



CHAPTER LXXXVIII 

THE TAMMANY RING IN NEW YORK CITY 

Although I have described in previous chapters the causes 
which have induced the perversion and corruption of demo- 
cratic government in great American cities, it seems desirable 
to illustrate more fully, from the recent history of two of those 
cities, the conditions under which those causes work and the 
forms which that perversion takes. The phenomena of muni- 
cipal democracy in the United States are the most remarkable 
and least laudable which the modern world has witnessed ; 
and they present some evils which no political philosopher, 
however unfriendly to popular government, appears to have 
foreseen, evils which have scarcely showed themselves in the 
cities of Europe, and unlike those which were thought charac- 
teristic of the rule of the masses in ancient times. I take New 
York and Philadelphia as examples because they are older than 
Chicago, Brooklyn, and St. Louis, far larger than Boston and 
Baltimore. And I begin with New York, because she displays 
on the grandest scale phenomena common to American cities, 
and because the plunder and misgovernment from which she 
has suffered have become specially notorious over the world. 

From the end of last century the State and (somewhat later) 
the city of New York were, more perhaps than any other 
State or city, the seat of intrigues and the battle-ground of 
factions. Party organizations early became powerful in them, 
and it was by a New York leader — Marcy, the friend of Presi- 
dent Jackson, — that the famous doctrine of "the Spoils to the 
Victors" was first formulated as the practice of New York 
politicians. These factions were for a long time led, and these 
intrigues worked, by men belonging to the upper or middle 
class, to whom the emoluments of office were desirable but not 
essential. In the middle of the century, however, there came 

377 



378 ILLUSTRATIONS AND REFLECTIONS part v 

a change. The old native population of the city was more and 
more swollen by the immigration of foreigners : first of the 
Irish, especially from 1846 onwards ; then also of the Germans 
from 1849 onwards ; finally of Polish and Russian Jews, as well 
as of Italians and of Slavs from about 1883 onwards. Already 
in 1870 the foreign population, including not only the foreign 
born but a large part of their children who, though born in 
America, were still virtually Europeans, constituted a half or 
perhaps even a majority of the inhabitants ; and the propor- 
tion of foreigners has since then varied but little. 1 These 
newcomers were as a rule poor and ignorant. They knew little 
of the institutions of the country, and had not acquired any 
patriotic interest in it. But they received votes. Their num- 
bers soon made them a power in city and State politics, and all 
the more so because they were cohesive, influenced by leaders 
of their own race, and not, like the native voters, either dis- 
posed to exercise, or capable of exercising, an independent 
judgment upon current issues. From among them there soon 
emerged men whose want of book-learning was overcome by 
their natural force and shrewdness, and who became apt pupils 
in those arts of party management which the native profes- 
sional politicians had already brought to perfection. 

While these causes were transferring power to the rougher 
and more ignorant element in the population, the swift devel- 
opments of trade which followed the making of the Erie Canal 
and opening up of railway routes to the West, with the conse- 
quent expansion of New York as a commercial and financial 
centre, had more and more distracted the thoughts of the 
wealthier people from local politics, which required more time 
than busy men could give, and seemed tame compared with 
that struggle over slavery, whereon, from 1850 to 1865, all 
patriotic minds were bent. The leading men, who fifty years 
earlier would have watched municipal affairs and perhaps 

1 In 1870 44 per cent of the population of New York were of foreign birth ; 
in 1880, 39 per cent; in 1890, 42 per cent. The percentage of persons who 
were practically foreigners, as the sons of immigrants still imperfectly- 
Americanized, was and is of course greater, because it must include many of 
the sons born in America of persons still imperfectly Americanized. It is true 
that some of the most recent immigrants had not yet obtained votes, but 
against this must be set the fact that the proportion of adults is much larger 
among the immigrants than in the whole population. 



chap, lxxxviii THE TAMMANY RING 379 

borne a part in them, wen 1 now so niueli occupied with their 
commercial enterprises or their legal practice as to neglect 
their local civic duties, and saw with unconcern the chief muni- 
cipal offices appropriated by persons belonging to the lower 
strata of society. 

Even had these men of social position and culture desired to 
retain a hold in city politics, the task would not have been 
easy, for the rapid growth of New York, which from a popu- 
lation of 108,000 in 1820 had risen to 209,000 in 1830, to 
813,000 in 1860, and to 942,000 in 1870, brought in swarms of 
strangers who knew nothing of the old residents, and it was 
only by laboriously organizing these newcomers that they could 
be secured as adherents. However laborious the work might 
be, it was sure to be done, because the keenness of party strife 
made every vote precious. But it was work not attractive to 
men of education, nor suited to them. It fell naturally to 
those who themselves belonged to the lower strata, and it 
became the source of the power they acquired. 

Among the political organizations of New York the oldest 
and most powerful was the Tammany Society. It is as old as 
the Federal government, having been established under the 
name of the Columbian Society in 1789, just a fortnight after 
Washington's inauguration, by an Irish American called 
William Mooney, and its purposes were at first social and 
charitable rather than political. In 1805 it entitled itself the 
Tammany Society, adopting, as is said, the name of an Indian 
chief called Tamanend or Tammany, and clothing itself with a 
sort of mock Indian character. There were thirteen tribes, 
with twelve " sachems " under a grand sachem, a " sagamore " 
or master of ceremonies, and a "wiskinski" or doorkeeper. 
By degrees, and as the story goes, under the malignant influ- 
ence of Aaron Burr, it took a strongly political tinge as its 
numbers increased. Already in 1812 it was a force in the city, 
having become a rallying centre for what was then called the 
Republican and afterwards the Democratic party ; but the ele- 
ment of moral aspiration does not seem to have become extinct, 
for in 1817 it issued an address deploring the spread of the 
foreign game of billiards among young men of the upper classes. 
At one time, too, it possessed a sort of natural history museum, 
which was ultimately purchased by the well-known showman, 



380 ILLUSTRATIONS AND REFLECTIONS part v 

P. T. Barnum. Till 1822 it had been governed by a general 
meeting of its members, but with its increased size there came 
a representative system ; and though the Society proper con- 
tinned to be governed and its property held by the " sachems," 
the control of the political organization became vested in a 
general committee consisting of delegates elected at primary 
meetings throughout the city, which that organization was 
now beginning to overspread. This committee, originally 
of thirty-three members, numbered seventy-five in 1836, by 
which time Tammany Hall had won its way to a predominant 
influence in city politics. Of the present organization I shall 
speak later. 

The first sachems had been men of some social standing, 
and almost entirely native Americans. The general demo- 
cratization, which was unfortunately accompanied by a vulgari- 
zation, of politics, that marked the time of Andrew Jackson, 
lowered by degrees the character of city politicians, turning 
them into mere professionals whose object was lucre rather than 
distinction or even power. This process told on the character 
of Tammany, making it more and more a machine in the 
hands of schemers, and thus a dangerous force, even while 
its rank and file consisted largely of persons of some means, 
who were interested as direct taxpayers in the honest ad- 
ministration of municipal affairs. After 1850, however, the 
influx from Europe transformed its membership while adding 
to its strength. The Irish immigrants were, both as Roman 
Catholics and in respect of such political sympathies as they 
brought with them, disposed to enter the Democratic party. 
Tammany laid hold of them, enrolled them as members of 
its district organizations, and rewarded their zeal by admitting 
a constantly increasing number to posts of importance as dis- 
trict leaders, committeemen, and holders of city offices. When 
the Germans arrived, similar efforts were made to capture 
them, though with a less complete success. Thus from 1850 
onwards Tammany came more and more to lean upon and 
find its chief strength in the foreign vote. Of the foreigners 
who have led it, most have been Irish. Yet it would be 
wrong to represent it, as some of its censors have done, as 
being predominantly Irish in its composition. There have 
always been and are now a vast number of native Americans 



CHAP, lxxxviii THE TAMMANY RING 381 

among the rank and file, as well as a few conspicuous among 
its chiefs. It contains many Germans, probably more than 
half of the German voters who can be reckoned as belonging 
to any party. And to-day the large majority of the Russian 
and Polish Jews (very numerous in some parts of the city), 
of the Czechs and other Austro-Hungarian Slavs, and pos- 
sibly also of the Italians, obey its behests, even if not 
regularly enrolled as members. For the majority of these 
immigrants are Democrats, and Tammany has been and is the 
standard bearer of the Democratic party in the city. It has 
had rivals and enemies in that party. Two now extinct 
rival Machines, — Mozart Hall, formerly led by Mr. Fernando 
Wood, and the " County Democracy," guided for some years 
by the late Mr. Hubert 0. Thompson, — at different times 
confronted, and sometimes even defeated it; while at other 
times "making a deal" with it for a share in municipal 
spoils. Once, as we shall presently see, it incurred the 
wrath of the best Democrats of the city. Still it has on 
the whole stood for and been at most times practically identi- 
fied with the Democratic party, posing on the Fourth of July 
as the traditional representative of Jeffersonian principles; 
and it has in that capacity grown from the status of a mere 
private club to be an organization commanding more than 
130,000 votes, a number usually sufficient to turn the balance 
in the great State of New York, and thereby, perhaps, to 
determine the result of a Presidential election. 

I must, however, return to those early days when Tammany 
was young and comparatively innocent, days when the Machine 
system and the Spoils system were still but half developed, and 
when Chancellor Kent could write (in 1835), that " the office of 
assistant alderman would be pleasant and desirable to persons 
of leisure, of intelligence, and of disinterested zeal for the wise 
and just regulation of the public concerns of the city" ! In 
1834 the mayoralty was placed in the direct gift of the people. 
In 1842 all restrictions on the suffrage in the city were removed, 
just before the opening of an era when they would have been 
serviceable. In 1846 the new constitution of the State trans- 
ferred the election of all judges to the people. In 1857 the 
State legislature, which had during the preceding twenty years 
been frequently modifying the municipal arrangements, enacted 



382 ILLUSTRATIONS AND REFLECTIONS part v 

a new charter for the city. The practice of New York State 
had been, and still is, to pass special laws regulating the frame 
of government for each of its cities, instead of having one 
uniform system for all municipalities. It is an unfortunate 
plan, for it goes far to deprive New York of self-government 
by putting her at the mercy of the legislature at Albany, which, 
already corrupt, is apt to be still further corrupted by the party 
leaders of the city, who are able to obtain from it such statutes 
as they desire. As I am not writing a municipal history of 
New York, but merely describing the action in that history of 
a particular party club, no more need be said of the charter and 
statutes of 1857 than that they greatly limited the powers of 
the Common Council. The chief administrative functions were 
vested in the mayor and the heads of various departments, 
while the power of raising and appropriating revenues was 
divided between a body called the Board of Supervisors and 
the legislature. Of the heads of the departments, some were 
directly chosen by the people, others appointed by the mayor, 
who himself held office for two years. To secure for their 
adherents some share in the offices of a city with a large 
Democratic majority, the legislature, then controlled by the 
Eepublicans, created a number of new boards for city ad- 
ministration, most of whose members were to be appointed 
by the Governor of the State. The police of the city in par- 
ticular, whose condition had been unsatisfactory, were now 
placed under such a board, wholly independent of the muni- 
cipal authorities, a change which excited strong local opposition 
and led to a sanguinary conflict between the old and the new 
police. 

This was the frame of municipal government when the hero 
who was to make Tammany famous appeared upon the scene. 
The time was ripe, for the lowest class of voters, foreign and 
native, had now been thoroughly organized and knew them- 
selves able to control the city. Their power had been shown 
in the success of a demagogue, the first of the city demagogues, 
named Fernando Wood, who by organizing them had reached 
the mayoral chair from beginnings so small that he was cur- 
rently reported to have entered New York as the leg of an 
artificial elephant in a travelling show. This voting mob 
were ready to follow Tammany Hall. It had become the 



chap, iwxvui THE TAMMANY KING 383 

Acropolis of the city; and he who could capture it might 
rule as tyrant. 1 

William Maivy Tweed was born in New York in 1823, of a 
Scotch father and an American mother. His earliest occupation 
was that of a chair-maker — his father's trade; but he failed in 
business, and first became conspicuous by his energy in one of 
the volunteer lire companies of the city, whereof he was pres- 
ently chosen foreman. These companies had a good deal of the 
club element in them, and gave their members many opportu- 
nities for making friends and becoming known in the district 
they served. Tweed had an abounding vitality, free and easy 
manners, plenty of humour, though of a coarse kind, and a 
jovial, swaggering way which won popularity for him among 
the lower and rougher sort of people. His size and corpulency 
made it all the easier for him to support the part of the genial 
good fellow ; and it must be said to his credit, that though he 
made friends lightly, he was always loyal to his friends. 
Neither shame nor scruples restrained his audacity. Forty 
years earlier these qualities would no more have fitted him 
to be a popular leader than FalstafPs qualities would have 
fitted him to be the chancellor of King Henry the Fifth; and 
had any one predicted to the upper classes of New York that the 
boisterous fireman of 1845, without industry, eloquence, or edu- 
cation, would in 1870 be ruler of the greatest city in the western 
world, they would have laughed him to scorn. In 1850, however, 
Tweed was elected alderman, and soon became noted in the 
Common Council, a body already so corrupt (though the tide 
of immigration had only just begun to swell) that they were 
commonly described as the Forty Thieves. He came out of it 
a richer man, and was presently sent to Washington as member 
for a district of the city. In the wider arena of Congress, how- 
ever, he cut but a poor figure. He seems to have spoken only 
once, and then without success. In 1857 he began to repair his 
fortunes, shattered at the national capital, by obtaining the post 
of Public School Commissioner in New York, and soon after- 
wards he was elected to the Board of Supervisors, of which 
he was four times chosen president. There his opportunities 

1 The nature and modes of action of Rings in general have been described 
in Part III. , Chapters LIX.-LXV. See also as to city government, Chanters L.- 
LII. in Part II. 



384 ILLUSTRATIONS AND REFLECTIONS part v 

for jobbery and for acquiring influence were much enlarged. 
" Heretofore his influence and reputation had both been local, 
and outside of his district he had hardly been known at all. 
Now his sphere of action embraced the whole city, and his 
large figure began to loom up in portentous magnitude through 
the foul miasma of municipal politics." x 

Tweed was by this time a member of Tammany Hall, and 
in 1863 he was elected permanent Chairman of the General 
Committee. Not long after he and his friends captured the 
inner stronghold of the Tammany Society, a more exclusive 
and hitherto socially higher body; and he became Grand 
Sachem, with full command both of the Society, with its prop- 
erty and traditional influence, and of the political organization. 
This triumph was largely due to the efforts of another politi- 
cian, whose fortunes were henceforward to be closely linked 
with Tweed's, Mr. Peter B. Sweeny, a lawyer of humble origin 
but with some cultivation and considerable talents. The two 
men were singularly unlike, and each fitted to supply the 
other's defects. Sweeny was crafty and taciturn, unsocial in 
nature and saturnine in aspect, with nothing to attract the 
crowd, but skilful in negotiation and sagacious in his political 
forecasts. He was little seen, preferring to hatch his schemes 
in seclusion ; but his hand was soon felt in the arrangement 
by which the hostility of Mozart Hall, the rival Democratic 
organization, was removed, its leader, Fernando Wood, obtain- 
ing a seat in Congress, while Tammany was thus left in sole 
sway of the Democratic vote of the city. The accession of 
Mozart Hall brought in another recruit to the Tammany group, 
Mr. A. Oakey Hall. This person was American by origin, 
better born and educated than his two associates. He was a 
lawyer by profession, and had occasionally acted as a lobbyist 
at Albany, working among the Eepublican members, for he 
then professed Republican principles, — as Mr. Sweeny had 
worked occasionally among the Democrats. He had neither 
the popular arts, such as they were, of Tweed nor the stealthy 
astuteness of Sweeny, and as he never seemed to take himself 
seriously, he was not taken seriously by others. But he was 
quick and adroit, he had acquired some influence among the 

1 Mr. C. F. Wingate iu the North American Review, No. CCXLV. (1874), 
p. 368. 



chap, ixxxviii THE TAMMANY KING 386 

Mo/art Hall faction; and his position as member of a well- 
known legal firm seemed to give a faint binge of respectability 
to a group which stood sadly in need of that quality. Ho had 
been elected District Attorney (public prosecutor) in bSdli, by 
a combination of .Mozart Hall with the Republicans (having 
been previously Assistant District Attorney), and had thus 
become known to the public. A fourth member was presently 
added in the person of Richard B. Connolly, who had become 
influential in the councils of Tammany. This man had been 
an auctioneer, and had by degrees risen from the secretary- 
ship of a ward committee to be, in 1851, elected County 
Clerk (although not then yet naturalized as a citizen), and in 
18oi> State Senator. His friends, who had seen reason to 
distrust his exactness as a counter of votes, called him Slip- 
pery Dick. His smooth manner and insinuating ways inspired 
little confidence, nor do his talents seem to have gone beyond 
a considerable skill in figures, a skill which he was soon 
to put to startling uses. Another man of importance, who 
was drawn over from the Mozart Hall faction, was Albert 
Cardozo, a Portuguese Jew, only twenty-six years of age, but 
with legal talents only less remarkable than the flagrant un- 
scrupulousness with which he prostituted them to party pur- 
poses. He was now, through Tammany influence, rewarded 
for his adhesion by being elected to one of the chief judge- 
ships of the city ; and two other equally dishonest minions of 
the Tweed group were given him as colleagues in the persons 
of George Barnard and John H. McCunn. 

In I860 Tweed and the other Tammany chiefs, to whom 
fortune and affinity of aims had linked him, carried for the 
mayoralty one of their number, Mr. John T. Hoffman, a man 
of ability, who might have had a distinguished career had he 
risen under better auspices ; and at the election of 1868 they 
made a desperate effort to capture both the State and the city. 
Frauds of unprecedented magnitude, both in the naturalizing 
of foreigners before the election and in the conduct of the 
election itself, were perpetrated. The average number of 
persons naturalized by the city courts had been, from 1856 to 
1867, 9200. In 1868 this number rose to 41,000, and the 
process was conducted with unexampled and indecent haste 
by two of the judges whom Tammany had just placed on the 

VOL. II 2C 



386 ILLUSTRATIONS AND REFLECTIONS part v 

bench, to execute its behests. False registrations, repeating 
on a large scale, and fraudulent manipulation of the votes given 
rolled up for Tammany a majority sufficient to secure for its 
friend Hoffman the governorship of the State. The votes 
returned as cast in New York City were eight per cent in 
excess of its total voting population. The vacancy caused by 
Hoffman's promotion was filled by the election of Mr. Hall. 
Thus at the beginning of 1869 the group already mentioned 
found itself in control of the chief offices of the city, and 
indeed of the State also. 1 Hall was mayor ; Sweeny was city 
chamberlain, that is to say, treasurer of the city and county ; 
Tweed was street commissioner and president of the Board 
of Supervisors; Connolly, comptroller, and thus in charge of 
the city finances. Meanwhile their nominee, Hoffman, was 
State Governor, able to veto anv legislation they disliked, 
while on the city bench they had three apt and supple tools 
in Cardozo, Barnard, and McCunn. Other less conspicuous 
men held minor offices, or were leagued with them in managing 
Tammany Hall, and through it, the city. But the four who 
have been first named stood out as the four ruling spirits of the 
faction, to all of whom, more or less, though not necessarily in 
equal measure, the credit or discredit for its acts attached; 
and it was to them primarily, though not exclusively, that the 
name of the Tammany Ring came to be thenceforth applied. 2 

Having a majority in the State legislature, the Ring used it 
to procure certain changes in the city charter which, while in 
some respects beneficial, as giving the city more control over 
its own local affairs, also subserved the purposes of its actual 
rulers. The elective Board of Supervisors was abolished, and its 
financial functions transferred to the recorder and aldermen. 

1 " On the 1st of January, 1869," said Mr. Tilden, "when Mr. A. Oakey Hall 
hecame mayor, the Ring became completely organized and matured." Pam- 
phlet entitled The New York City Ring : its Origin, Maturity, and Fall, New 
York, 1873. 

2 Elaborate and unsparing portraits of these four gentlemen and of the 
three Ring judges, as well as of some minor Ringsters, may be found in Mr. 
Wingate's article in the North American Review for October, 1874 (No. 
CCXLV.) . His analysis of their characters and conduct seems to have evoked 
from them no contradictions, and certainly gave rise to no legal proceedings. 
Reference may also be made for the history of the Ring generally to the col- 
lected speeches of Mr. Samuel J. Tilden (see especially the speech of Nov. 2nd, 
1871, in Mr. Bigelow's edition), and to those of Mr. Henry D. Clinton (published 
as a pamphlet in 1872), as well as to Mr. Tilden's pamphlet already cited. 



chap. i.xwMii THE TAMMANY RING 



The executive power was concentrated in fche hands of the 
mayor, who also obtained the power of appointing the chiel 
municipal officers, and that for periods varying from four 
to eight years. He exercised this power (April, 1870) by 
appointing Tweed Commissioner of Public Works, Sweeny 
Commissioner of Parks, and (in pursuance of a subsequent 
enactment) Connolly Comptroller. In a new board, called the 
Board of Apportionment, and composed of the Mayor (Hall), 
the Comptroller (Connolly), the Commissioner of Public Works 
(Tweed), and the President of the Board of Parks (Sweeny), 
nearly all authority was now practically vested, for they could 
levy taxes, appoint the subordinate officials, lay down and en- 
force ordinances. 1 Besides his power of appointing heads of 
departments, the mayor had the right to call for reports from 
them in whatever form he pleased, and also the sole right of im- 
peachment, and he had further, in conjunction with the comp- 
troller, to allow or revise the estimate the board was annually to 
submit, and to fix the salary of the civil judges. The undis- 
guised supremacy which this new arrangement, amounting 
almost to dictatorship (purchased, as was believed and may well 
be believed, by gross bribery, conducted by Tweed himself, in the 
State legislature at Albany), conferred upon the quatuorvirate 
was no unmixed advantage, for it concentrated public attention on 
them, and in promising them impunity it precipitated their fall. 

In the reign of the Ring there is little to record beyond the use 
made by some of them of the opportunities for plunder, which 
this control of the municipal funds conferred. Plunder of the 
city treasury, especially in the form of jobbing contracts, was 
no new thing in New York, but it had never before reached such 
colossal dimensions.. Two or three illustrations may suffice. 

Large schemes of street-opening were projected, and for this 
purpose it became necessary to take and pay compensation for 
private property, and also, under the State laws, to assess bet- 
terment upon owners whose property was to be benefited. 
Sweeny, who knew something of the fortunes amassed in the 
rebuilding of Paris under the prefecture of Baron Haussman, 
and was himself an admirer (and, as was said, an acquaint- 
ance) of Louis Napoleon, was credited with knowing how to 
use public improvements for private profit. Under the auspices 
1 North America,, Review for .Jan. is:.") (Vol. C.'CXLVI.. pp. 172-17.")). 



388 ILLUSTRATIONS AND REFLECTIONS part v 

of some members of the Ring, Commissioners for the carrying 
out of each improvement were appointed by the King judges, — 
in the famous case of the widening of Broadway by Cardozo in 
a perfectly novel manner. Those members and their friends 
then began quietly to purchase property in the spots which were 
eventually taken by the Commissioners, and extravagant com- 
pensation was thereupon awarded to them, while other owners, 
who enjoyed no secret means of predicting the action of the 
Commissioners, received for similar pieces of land far smaller 
sums, the burden of betterment also being no less unequally 
distributed as between the ringsters and other proprietors. In 
this way great sums passed from the city to those whom the 
Ring favoured, in certain cases with commissions to some of its 
members. 1 Among the numerous contracts by which the city 
treasury was depleted, not a few were afterwards discovered 
to have been given for printing to three companies in which 
Tweed and his intimates were interested. Nearly $3,000,000 
were paid to them within two years for city printing and 
stationery. Other contracts for wood-paving and concrete were 
hardly less scandalous. 

The claims outstanding against the Board of Supervisors, 
previous to 1870, furnished another easy and copious source of 
revenue, for under a statute which the Ring had procured 
these claims, largely fraudulent or fictitious, were to be exam- 
ined and audited by an ad interim, Board of Audit composed 
of the Mayor, the Comptroller, and Tweed. The board dele- 
gated the duties of auditing to an ex-bankrupt creature of 
Tweed's named Watson, who had been appointed city auditor, 
and who went to work with such despatch that in three and 
a half months he had presented warrants for claims to the 
amount of $6,312,000 to the members of the ad interim board 
— for the board itself seems to have met only once — on whose 
signature these bills were accordingly paid out of the city treas- 
ury. 2 Subsequent investigation showed that from 65 to 85 per 
cent of the bills thus passed were fictitious, and of the whole 
Tweed appears to have received 24 per cent. But all the 
other financial achievements of the Ring pale their ineffectual 

1 Details may be read in North American Review, Vol. CCXLVI., pp. 
131-135. 

2 North American Review, July, 1875 (No. CCXLVIIL, pp. 116-120). 



chap. Lxxxvm THE TAMMANY RING 389 

tires beside those connected with the erection and furnishing 
of the County Court House. When designed in L868 its 
cost was estimated at $260,000. Before the end of 1871 a 
sum variously estimated at from $8,000,000 to $13,000,000 
(£1,000,000 to £2,600,000) had been expended upon it, and it 
was still unfinished. This was effected, as was afterwards 
proved in judicial proceedings, by the simple method of re- 
quiring the contractors, many of whom resisted for a time, 
to add large sums to their bills, sums which were then appro- 
priated by Tweed, Connolly, and their minions or accomplices. 1 
Nothing could have been more direct or more effective. The 
orders were given by Tweed, the difference between the real 
and the nominal charge was settled by the contractor with him 
or with the auditor, and the bills, passed and signed by the 
members of the Board of Supervisors or Board of Apportion- 
ment (as the case might be), were approved by the auditor 
Watson and were paid out of the city funds at the bank. 
The proceeds were then duly divided, his real charges, or 
perhaps a little more, going to the contractor, and the rest 
among the Boss and his friends. 

Under such a system there was nothing surprising in the 
growth of the city debt. Fresh borrowing powers as well as 
taxing powers had been obtained from the State legislature, 
and they were freely used. According to the published report 
of the committee which subsequently investigated the city 
finances, the bonded debt of the city rose from $36,293,000 
at the beginning of 1869, to §97,287,000 in September, 1871 ; 
that is, by $61,000,000. Adding to this the floating debt 
incurred during the same two years and eight months, 
viz. $20,000,000, the total price which the city paid for the 
privilege of being ruled by Tammany during those thirty-two 
months reached $81,000,000 (£16,200,000), or more than 
twice the amount of the debt as it stood in 1868. 2 And for 

1 Among the items in the bills for fitting up and furnishing the Court House 
(amounting to more than $6,000,000, besides more than #2,000,000 for repairs), 
the items of 8404,347 for safes, and £7500 for thermometers were found 
amusing when eventually disclosed. 

2 I take these figures from the report of Mr. Andrew H. Green (then comp- 
troller of the city) made in October, 1874. Of the unliquidated debt claims, 
many of which were then still outstanding, the reporl Bays: "Only a small 
proportion of this monstrous legacy of corruption and misgovernment was 



390 ILLUSTRATIONS AND REFLECTIONS part v 

all this there was hardly anything in the way of public im- 
provements to show. 

What, it may be asked, did the people of New York, and in 
particular the taxpayers at whose expense these antics were 
proceeding, think of their rulers, and how did they come to 
acquiesce in such a government, which, not content with plun- 
dering them, had degraded justice itself in the person of the 
Ring judges, and placed the commerce and property of the 
city at the mercy of unscrupulous and venal partisans ? I 
was in New York in the summer of 1870, and saw the Ring 
flourishing like a green bay-tree. Though the frauds just 
described were of course still unknown, nobody had a word of 
respect for its members. Tweed, for instance, would never 
have been invited to any respectable house. I was taken to 
look at justices Barnard and Cardozo as two of the most 
remarkable sights of the city ; and such indeed they were. I 
inquired why such things were endured, not merely patiently, 
but even with a sort of amused enjoyment, as though the citi- 
zens were proud of having produced a new phenomenon the 
like whereof no other community could show. It was explained 
to me that these things had not come suddenly, but as the 
crown of a process of degradation prolonged for some fifteen 
years or more which had made corruption so familiar as to be 
no longer shocking. The respectable leaders of the Democratic 
party had, with few exceptions, winked at the misdeeds of 
those who commanded a vote which they needed for State 
and national purposes. The press had been largely muzzled 
by lavish payments made to it for advertising, and a good 
many minor journals were actually subsidized by the Ring. 
The Bench, though only partially corrupt, was sufficiently in 
league with the Ring for the sanction which the law required 
from it in certain cases to be unavailable as a safeguard. As 
for the mass of citizens, on whose votes this structure of iniq- 
uity had been reared, nearly half of them were practically 
strangers to America, amenable to their own clubs and leaders, 

free from evidence of the most ingeniously and diabolically contrived frauds. 
For three years the million-headed hydra has been struggling to force the 
doors of the treasury. It has bought, bribed, and brought to its aid by the 
offer of a division of profits in case of success, the fraud, the craft, and the 
greed of the most unscrupulous lawyers, legislators, and plotters in the com- 
munity. It has tainted the press and dictated political nominations." (p. 7 .) 



nniM.xwvm TIN: TAMMANY KING 891 



but with do sense of civic duty to bheir aew country nor likely 
to respond fco any appeals from its statesmen. Three-fourths 

or more of them paid little or nothing in the way of direct 
taxes and did not realize that the increase of civic burdens 
would ultimately fall upon them as well as upon the rich. More- 
over, the Ring had cunningly placed on the pay rolls of the 
city a large number of persons rendering comparatively little 
service, who had become a body of janizaries, bound to defend 
the government which paid them, working hard for it at elec- 
tions, and adding, together with the regular employes, no con- 
temptible quota to the total Tammany vote. 1 As for the Boss, 
those very qualities in him which repelled men of refinement 
made him popular with the crowd. 

I asked what under such circumstances the respectable citi- 
zens proposed to do. My friends raised their eyebrows. One, of 
a historical turn, referred to the experience of Home in the days 
of Clodius and Milo, and suggested the hiring of gladiators. 

" These be thy gods, Democracy : these are the fruits of 
abstract theory in politics. It was for this then that the yoke of 
George the Third was broken and America hailed as the day- 
spring of freedom by the peoples of Europe — that a robber 
should hold the keys of the public treasury, and a ruffian be set 
to pollute the seat of justice." So might the shade of Alexander 
Hamilton have spoken, if permitted to revisit, after seventy 
years, the city his genius had adorned. Yet it was not such 
a democracy as Jefferson had sought to create and Hamilton 
to check that had delivered over to Tweed and to Barnard the 
greatest city of the Western World. That was the work of 
corruptions unknown to the days of Jefferson and Hamilton, 
of the Spoils system, of election frauds, of the gift of the 
suffrage to a host of ignorant strangers, and above all of 
the apathy of those wealthy and educated classes, without 
whose participation the best-framed government must speedily 
degenerate. 

In the autumn of 1870 the King seemed securely seated. 

Tweed, the master spirit, was content to scoop in money, and 

1 Mr. Tilden (Origin and Fall of the New York Ring) observes that the 
Ring had at its disposal "the whole local government machinery, with its 
expenditure and patronage and its employment of at least 12,000 persons, 
besides its possession of the police, its influence on the judiciary, its com rol of 
the inspectors and canvassers of the elections.*' 



392 ILLUSTRATIONS AND REFLECTIONS part v 

enjoy the licentious luxury which it procured him; though 
some declared that he had fixed his eyes upon the American 
legation in London. Sweeny preferred the substance to the 
ostentation of power ; and Connolly's tastes were as vulgar as 
Tweed's, without the touch of open-haudedness which seemed 
to palliate the latter's greed. Cardozo, however, had his ambi- 
tions, and hungered for a place on the Supreme Federal Bench ; 
while Hall, to whom no share in the booty was ever traced, 
and who may not have received any, was believed to desire to 
succeed Hoffman as Governor of the State, when that official 
should be raised by the growing influence of Tammany to the 
Presidency of the United States. No wonder the Ring was 
intoxicated by the success it had already won. It had achieved 
a fresh triumph in re-electing Hall as Mayor at the end of 
1870 ; and New York seemed to lie at its feet. 

Its fall came suddenly ; and the occasion sprang from a petty 
personal quarrel. A certain O'Brien, conspicuous as a leader 
in a discontented section of the Democratic party, was also 
personally sore because he had received an office below his 
hopes, and cherished resentment against Sweeny, to whom he 
attributed his disappointment. A henchman of his named 
Copeland, employed in the auditor's office, happened to find 
there some accounts headed " County Liabilities " which 
struck him as suspicious. He copied them, and showed them 
to O'Brien, who perceived their value, and made him copy 
more of them, in fact a large part of the fraudulent accounts 
relating to the furnishing of the Court House. Threatening 
the King with the publication of these compromising docu- 
ments, O'Brien tried to extort payment of an old claim he 
had against the city: but after some haggling the negotia- 
tions were interrupted by the accidental death of Watson, the 
Auditor. Ultimately O'Brien carried his copies to the New 
York Times, a paper which had already for some months past 
been attacking Tammany with unwonted boldness. On the 
8th of July, 1871, it exposed the operations of the Ring; 
and denounced its members, in large capitals, as thieves and 
swindlers, defying them to sue it for libel. Subsequent issues 
contained extracts from the accounts copied by Copeland ; and 
all were summed up in a supplement, published on July 29th, 
and printed in German as well as English, which showed that 



cnw. ixxxviii Till: TAMMANY KING 898 



■ sum of nearly $10,000,000 in all had been expended upon 
the Court House, whose oondition everybody could see, and 

for armoury repairs and furnishings. Much credit is due to 
the proprietor of the Times, who resisted threats and bribes 
offered him on behalf of the King to desist from his on- 
slaught, and perhaps even more to the then editor, the late Mr. 
Louis J. Jennings, whose conduct of the campaign was full 
of tire and courage. The better classes of the city were now 
fully aroused, for the denials or defences of the mayor and 
Tweed found little credence. On September 4th a meeting 
of citizens was held, and a committee of seventy persons, 
many of them eminent by ability, experience, or position, 
formed to investigate the frauds charged, which by this time 
had drawn the eyes of the whole State and country. It is 
needless to recount the steps by which Connolly, the person 
most directly implicated, and the one whom his colleagues 
sought to make a scapegoat of, was forced to appoint as 
deputy an active and upright man (Mr. A. H. Green), whose 
possession and examination of the records in the comptroller's 
office proved invaluable. The leading part in the campaign 
was played by Mr. Samuel J. Tilden, chairman of the Demo- 
cratic party in the State, afterwards Governor of the State, 
and in 1876 candidate for the Federal Presidency against Mr. 
Hayes. Feeling acutely the disgrace which the Eing had 
brought upon the Democratic party, he was resolved by pursuit 
and exposure to rid the party of them and their coterie once for 
all ; and in this he was now seconded by all the better Demo- 
crats. But much was also due to the brilliant cartoons of 
Mr. Thomas Xast, whose rich invention and striking draw- 
ing presented the four leading members of the King in every 
attitude and with every circumstance of ignominy. 1 The elec- 
tion for State offices held in November was attended by unusual 
excitement. The remaining members of the Ring, for Connolly 
was now extinct and some of the minor figures had taken to 
flight, fa^ed it boldly, and Tweed in particular, cheered by 
his renomination in the Democratic State Convention held 

1 Tweed felt the sharpness of the weapon. He said once: "I don't care 
a straw for your newspaper articles: my constituents don't know how to 
read, hut they can't help seeing them damned pictures"; and indeed there 
was always a crowd round the windows in which Harper's Weekly (then 
admirahly edited by the late Mr. George AVilliam Curtis) was displayed. 



394 ILLUSTRATIONS AND REFLECTIONS part v 

shortly beforehand, and by his re-election to the chairmanship 
of the General Committee of Tammany, now neither explained 
nor denied anything, bnt asked defiantly in words which in 
New York have passed into a proverb, " What are yon going 
to do abont it ? " His reliance on his own district of the chVy, 
and on the Tammany masses as a whole, was justified, for he 
was re-elected to the State Senate and the organization gave 
his creatures its solid support. But the respectable citizens, 
who had for once been roused from their lethargy, and who 
added their votes to those of the better sort of Democrats and 
of the Kepublican party, overwhelmed the machine, notwith- 
standing the usual election frauds undertaken on its behalf. 
Few of the Ring candidates survived, and the Ring itself was 
irretrievably ruined. Public confidence returned, and the price 
of real estate advanced. Sweeny forthwith announced his with- 
drawal from public life, and retired to Canada. The wretched 
Connolly was indicted, and found so few friends that he re- 
mained in jail for six weeks before he could procure bail. 
Tweed, though dispirited by the murder of his boon-companion, 
the notorious Fisk (who had been carrying through the scan- 
dalous Erie frauds by the help of the Ring judges), stood his 
ground with characteristic courage, and refused to resign the 
office to which the mayor had appointed him. However, in 
December he was arrested, 1 but presently released on insignifi- 
cant bail by Judge Barnard. The State Assembly, in which 
the reformers had now a majority, soon afterwards took steps 
to impeach Barnard, McCunn, and Cardozo. Cardozo resigned; 
the other two were convicted and removed from the bench. 
The endless delays and minute technicalities of the courts of 
New York protracted Tweed's trial till January, 1873, when, 
after a long hearing, the jury were discharged because unable 
to agree. He was thereupon rearrested, and upon his second 
trial in November, when special efforts had been made to 
secure a trustworthy jury, was found guilty and sentenced 
to twelve years' imprisonment. After a while the Court of 
Appeals released him, holding the sentence irregular, because 
cumulative : he was then rearrested in a civil suit by the city, 
escaped, was caught in Spain, identified by a caricature, and 

1 When asked on being committed to state his occupation and creed, he 
answered that he was a statesman, and of no religion. 



CHAP, i.wxvin 1HK 1 AMMAN V RING 

brought back to prison, where he died in L876. Mall was 

thrice tried. On the first occasion the death of a juryman 
interrupted the proceedings; on the second the jury disagreed; 

on the third he obtained a favourable verdict Connolly fled 
the country and died in exile. None of the group, nor of 
Tweed's other satellites, ever again held office. 

This was the end of the Tweed Ring. But it was not the 
end of Tammany. Abashed for the moment, and stooping 
earthward while the tempest swept by, that redoubtable 
organization never relaxed its grip upon the Xew York masses. 
It was only for a few months that the tempest cleared the 
air. The -good citizens " soon forgot their sudden zeal. 
Neglecting the primaries, where indeed they might have failed 
to effect much, they allowed nominations to fall back into the 
hands of spoilsmen, and the most important city offices to be 
fought for by factions differing only iu their names and party 
badges, because all were equally bent upon selfish gain. Within 
five years from the overthrow of 1871, Tammany was again in 
the saddle, and the city government practically in the nomina- 
tion of Mr. John Kelly, tempered by the rival influence of the 
ex-prize fighter ATorrissey. In 1876 a vigorous pen, reviewing 
the history of the preceding eight years, and pointing out how 
soon the old mischiefs had reappeared, thus described the posi- 
tion : — 

" A few very unscrupulous men, realizing thoroughly the changed con- 
dition of affairs, had organized the proletariat of the city ; and, through 
the form of suffrage, had taken possession of its government. They saw 
clearly the facts of the case, which the doctrinaires, theorists, and patriots 
studiously ignored or vehemently denied. They knew perfectly well that 
New York City was no longer a country town, inhabited by Americans and 
church-goers, and officered by deacons. They recognized the existence of 
a very large class which had nothing, and availed themselves of its assist- 
ance to plunder those who had something. The only way to meet them 
effectually and prevent a recurrence of the experience is for the friends of 
good government equally to recognize facts and shape their course accord- 
ingly. The question then is a practical one. 

"If New York, or any other great city in America which finds itself 
brought face to face with this issue, were an independent autonomy, — 
like Rome or many of the free cities of the Middle Ages, — the question 
would at once be divested of all that which in America makes it difficult 
of solution. Under these circumstances the evil would run its course, and 
cure itself in the regular and natural way. Xew York would have a I 



396 ILLUSTRATIONS AND REFLECTIONS part v 

within six months. Whether he came into power at the head of the prole- 
tariat or seized the government as the conservator of property would make 
no difference. The city would instinctively find rest under a strong rule. 
The connection which exists, and necessarily can never be severed, be- 
tween the modern great city and the larger State, closes this natural 
avenue of escape. New York City is tied to New York State, and must 
stumble along as best it may at its heels. It is guaranteed a government 
republican in form, and consequently a radical remedy for the evil must 
be found within that form, or it cannot be found at all, and the evil must 
remain uncured. 

" The thing sought for then is to obtain a municipal government, repub- 
lican in form, in which property, as well as persons, shall be secured in its 
rights, at the cost of a reasonable degree only of public service on the 
part of the individual citizen. The facts to be dealt with are few and 
patent. On the one side a miscellaneous population, made up largely of 
foreigners, and containing an almost preponderating element of vice, igno- 
rance, and poverty, all manipulated by a set of unscrupulous professional 
politicians ; on the other a business community, engrossed in affairs, amass- 
ing wealth rapidly, and caring little for politics. Between the two the 
usual civic population, good and bad, intent on pleasure, art, literature, 
science, and all the myriad other pursuits of metropolitan life. The two 
essential points are the magnitude and the diversified pursuits of the pop- 
ulation, and its division into those who have and those who have not. 

" Bearing these facts, which cannot be changed, in mind, then a few 
cardinal principles on which any successful municipal government, repub- 
lican in form, must rest, may safely be formulated. In the first place, 
the executive must be strong and responsible ; in the second place, prop- 
erty must be entitled to a representation as well as persons ; in the third 
place, the judiciary must be as far removed as possible from the political 
arena. In other words, justice must be made as much as possible to descend 
from above. Curiously enough, each of these principles, instead of being 
a novelty, is but a recurrence to the ancient ways. ' ' 1 

These counsels, and many others like them, have not been 
taken to heart. Since 1871 there have been many tinkerings 
with the frame of municipal government. A comprehensive 
scheme of reform, proposed by a strong commission which 
Governor Tilden appointed in 1876, failed to be carried ; and 
though something has been done in the way of better ballot 
and election laws, and of civil service reform, the Spoils sys- 
tem still thrives and election returns can still be manipulated 
by those who control the city government. There have been 
some excellent mayors, such as Mr. Hewitt, for the catastrophe 

1 North American Review for October, 1876 (No. CCLIIL, p. 421), an un- 
signed article. 



cuvr. lxxxviii THE TAMMANY RING 397 

of 1871 has never been forgotten by Tammany, whose chief- 
tains sometimes find it prudent to run reputable candidates. 
No more Barnards or Cardozos have disgraced the bench, for 
the Bar Association is vigorous and watchful; and when very 
recently a judge who had been too subservient to a suspected 
State Boss, was nominated by the influence of that gentleman 
to one of the highest judicial posts in the State, the efforts of 
the Association, well supported in the city, procured his defeat 
by an overwhelming majority. 

Nevertheless, Tammany is still supreme; and the august 
dynasty of bosses goes on. When Mr. John Kelly died some 
years ago, the sceptre passed to the hands of the not less capa- 
ble and resolute Mr. Richard Croker, once the keeper of a 
liquor saloon, and for some short time the holder of a clerk- 
ship under Tweed himself. 1 Mr. Croker, like Lorenzo de' 
Medici in Florence, holds no civic office, but, as Chairman of 
the Tammany sub-committee on organization, controls all city 
officials, while, by the public avowal of the Speaker of the 
House of Assembly, during the session of 1893, " all legislation 
(i.e. in the State legislature at Albany) emanated from Tam- 
many Hall, and was dictated by that great statesman, Richard 
Croker." 2 

The reader will expect some further words to explain how 
the Tammany of to-day is organized, by what means it holds 
its power, and what sort of government it gives the city. 

Each of the thirty " assembly districts " in the city annually 
elects a certain number of members, varying from 60 to 270, to 
sit on the General Committee of Tammany Hall, which has long 
claimed to be, and at present is, the "regular" Democratic 
organization of the city. The Committee is thus large, num- 
bering several thousand persons, and on it there also sit the 
great chiefs who are above taking district work. Each dis- 
trict has also a "Leader" (not elected but appointed by the 

1 Full details regarding the career of Mr. Croker, of his henchman, Police 
Justice Patrick Divver, and of other Tammany " braves" of to-day, may he 
found in an article in the Atlantic Monthly for February, 1894, by Mr. H. C. 
Merwin, and more fully in the " Annual Records " of Assemblymen and Sen- 
ators from New York City, published by the City Reform Club. 

- Mr. D. G. Thompson, Politics in a Democracy, p. 127, an odd little book 
which purports to defend Tammany by showing that it gives the New York 
masses the sort of government they desire and deserve. 



398 ILLUSTRATIONS AND REFLECTIONS part v 

General Committee), who is always on the General Committee ; 
and the thirty leaders form the Executive Committee of the 
Hall, which has also other committees, including that on finance, 
whereof Mr. Croker is chairman. Each election district has, 
moreover, a District Committee, with the "leader" as chair- 
man and practically as director. This Committee appoints 
a Captain for every one of the voting precincts into which the 
district is divided. There are about 1100 such precincts, and 
these 1100 captains are held responsible for the vote cast in 
their respective precincts. The captain is probably a liquor- 
seller, and as such has opportunities of getting to know the 
lower class of voters. He has often some small office, and 
usually some little patronage, as well as some money, to bestow. 
In each of the thirty districts there is a party headquarters for 
the Committee and the local party work, and usually, also, a 
clubhouse, where party loyalty is cemented over cards and 
whiskey, besides a certain number of local "associations," 
called after prominent local politicians, who are expected to 
give an annual picnic, or other kind of treat, to their retainers. 
A good deal of social life, including dances and summer out- 
ings, goes on in connection with these clubs. 1 

Such an organization as this, with its tentacles touching 
every point in a vast and amorphous city, is evidently a most 
potent force, especially as this force is concentrated in one 
hand — that of the Boss of the Hall. He is practically auto- 
cratic ; and under him these thousands of officers, controlling 
from 120,000 to 150,000 votes, move with the precision of a 
machine. 2 However, it is not only in this mechanism, which 
may be called a legitimate method of reaching the voters, that 
the strength of Tammany lies. Its control of the city govern- 
ment gives it endless opportunities of helping its friends, of 
worrying its opponents, and of enslaving the liquor-dealers. 
Their licences are at its mercy, for the police can proceed 
against or wink at breaches of the law, according to the 
amount of loyalty the saloon-keeper shows to the Hall. From 

1 Full and clear descriptions may be found in Mr. H. C. Mer win's article 
already cited, and in Mr. Thompson's book, pp. 66 sqq. 

2 The highest total vote ever cast in New York was 285,000 (in 1892) . In 
the city election of 1890 Tammany polled 116,000 votes out of 216,000 cast ; 
in 1892 the Tammany candidate for mayor had 173,000, there being, however, 
no other Democratic candidate. 



ohap. Lxxxvni THE TAMMANY RING 309 



the contributions of the liquor interest a considerable revenue 
is raised; more is obtained by assessing office-holders, down to 
the very small ones ; and, perhaps, most of all by blackmailing 

Wealthy men and corporations, who tind that the city authori- 
ties have so many opportunities of interfering vexatiously 
with their business that they prefer to buy them off and live 
in peace. 1 The worst form of this extortion is the actual 
complicity with criminals which consists in sharing the profits 
of crime. A fruitful source of revenue, roughly estimated at 
$1,000,000 a year, is derived, when the party is supreme at 
Albany, from legislative blackmailing in the legislature, or, 
rather, from undertaking to protect the great corporations from 
the numerous " strikers," who threaten them there with bills. 
A case has been mentioned in which as much as $60,000 was de- 
manded from a great company ; and the president of another 
is reported to have said (1893) : "Formerly we had to keep a 
man at Albany to buy off the ' strikers' one by one. This year 
we simply paid over a lump sum to the Ring, and they looked 
after our interests." But of all their engines of power none 
is so elastic as their command of the administration of criminal 
justice. The mayor appoints the police justices, usually select- 
ing them from certain Tammany workers, sometimes from the 
criminal class, not often from the legal profession. These 
justices are often Tammany leaders in their respective dis- 
tricts. 2 Says a distinguished publicist : — 

" The police captain of the precinct, the justice of the police court, and 
the district leader of the Tammany organization are all leagued together 
to keep the poor in subjection and prevent the rich from interfering. 
Their means of annoyance for a poor man are endless. They can arrest 
him on small pretences, prevent his getting employment from the city, or 
city contractors, pursue him for allowing his goods to remain on the side- 
walk, and for not cleaning off the snow promptly, tax him heavily, or let 
him ^o free. All these means of persecution are freely resorted to, so 
that the poor, and especially the foreign poor, are really as much in sub- 
jection to Tammany as the Italians to the Camorra. The source of it all 
is the character of the mayor. He appoints the police commissioners, and 
the commissioners appoint the captains, and he appoints the police jus- 

1 The recent Investigating Committee of the New York State Senate has 
I BCOiching light on this so-called "Police Protective Tariff," as to 
Which see also an article in the Forum for August, ism, by Mr. J. B. Leavitt. 
- Atlantic Monthly, 'it supra. 



400 ILLUSTRATIONS AND REFLECTIONS part v 

tices also, and is responsible for their quality. When the act under which 
the present justices act was under consideration in the legislature, the 
proviso that all appointees should be lawyers of a certain standing at the 
bar was stricken out, so that the mayor has a completely free hand in 
selection, and the result is that most of those appointed recently under 
the Tammany regime are old 'toughs,' liquor-dealers, gamblers, or sim- 
ple adventurers, who have lived from the age of twenty by holding small 
offices, such as doorkeepers or clerks of the minor city courts. 

"Now there is in the moral sphere of city government nothing so 
important as what I may call the administration of petty justice, that is, 
justice among the poor, ignorant, and friendless, the class who cannot pay 
lawyers or find bail, and especially that very large class in the cities on 
our eastern coast, of poor foreigners who know nothing of our laws and 
constitutions, and to whom the police magistrate or the police captain 
represent the whole government of the country, Federal, State, and muni- 
cipal, who accept without a murmur any sentence which may be pro- 
nounced on them, or any denial of justice which may overtake them. 
They get all their notions of the national morality, and really their earli- 
est political training, from their contact with these officers and with the 
district "leader." Upon their experience with these people it depends 
very much what kind of citizens they will become, they and their children 
after them. Well, one of the very first lessons they learn is that they 
can have no standing in court unless they are members of the Tammany 
Society, or as simple voters, they have a 'pull,' that is, some sort of 
occult influence with the magistrate. In default of this their complaints 
are dismissed, and they are found guilty and sent up to ' the Island, ' or 
held in bail which they cannot procure, or in some manner worsted." * 

With such, sources of power it is not surprising that Tam- 
many Hall commands the majority of the lower and the foreign 
masses of New York, though it has never been shown to hold 
an absolute majority of all the voters of the city. Its local 
strength is exactly proportioned to the character of the local 
population ; and though there are plenty of native Americans 
among the rank and file as well as among the leaders, still it 
is from the poorer districts, inhabited by Jews, Irish, Germans, 
Italians, Bohemians, that its heaviest vote comes. 2 These poor 
people do not support it because it is vicious. They like it 
and think it a good thing; it satisfies their instincts of combi- 
nation and good fellowship ; it is often all the government they 
know. Mr. Merwin puts the attitude of the better sort of 

1 Mr. E. L. Godkin in Annals of the Amer. Acad, of Polit. Science for May, 
1894, p. 17. 

2 An instructive examination of the vote by districts which brings this result 
clearly out is given by Mr. Thompson, pp. 79-91. 



COAT, iwxyiii THE TAMMANY KING 401 

Tammany adherents, and particularly of the native Americans, 

when he writes, — 

"The Tammany man dislikes and despises the Anglomania of what is 
called 'society' in New York; he distrusts the people who compose 'so- 
ciety" and believes them ;it heart out of sympathy with American princi- 
ples, whereas Tammany in his view is a concrete protest against monarchy 
and monarchical arrangements of society. He considers that Tammany 
is. on the whole, a good body, that it gives New York a good government, 
that it stands for what is manly and patriotic. It troubles him somewhat 
that a few of the leaders are said to be acquiring ill-gotten gains; and if 
the scandal increases he will overthrow those leaders and appoint others 
in their stead. Meanwhile Tammany is his party, his church, his club, 
his totem. To be loyal to something is almost a necessity of all incorrupt 
natures, and especially of the Celtic nature. The Tammany man is loyal 
to Tammany. 

" In truth, there is very little in New York to suggest any higher ideal. 
What kind of a spectacle does the city present to a man working his way 
up from poverty to wealth, — to one, for instance, who began as a ' tough,' 
and ends as a capitalist ? The upper class — at least the richer class, the 
class chiefly talked about in the papers — is, with exceptions, of course, 
given over to material luxury and to ostentation. It is without high aims, 
without sympathy, without civic pride or feeling. It has not even the 
personal dignity of a real aristocracy. Its sense of honour is very crude. 
And as this class is devoted to the selfish spending, so the business class 
is devoted to the remorseless getting, of money." 2 

To this description of the attitude of the Tammany rank and 
file it may be added that, as few of them pay any direct taxes, 
they have no sense of the importance of economy in admin- 
istration. True it is that they ultimately pay, through their 
rent and otherwise, for whatever burdens are laid on the city. 
But they do not perceive this, — and as the lawyers say, De 
non apparentibus et non existentibus eadem est ratio. The gov- 
ernment of the rich by the poor is a new phenomenon in the 
world ; and where the rich have little contact with the poor 
and the poor little respect for the rich, happy results can hardly 
be expected. Apart from the abuse of the minor criminal jus- 
tice, apart from the blackmailing of innocent men as well as 
of offenders, apart from the impunity which the payment of 
blackmail secures to some forms of vice, 2 apart from such 

1 Atlantic Monthly, ut supra. 

2 Very great credit is due to a courageous clergyman who lately at some per- 
sonal risk succeeded in exposing this system, and helped thereby t<> obtain the 
appointment of the recent Investigating Committee. 

VOL. II 2 D 



402 ILLUSTRATIONS AND REFLECTIONS part v 

lapses from virtue as that of the aldermen who sold the 
right of lajang a railroad in Broadway, — twenty-two out of 
the twenty-four were indicted for bribery, — the actual admin- 
istration of the city injures and offends the ordinary citizen 
less than might have been expected. The police force, often 
as they are made the engine of extortion or the accomplice 
in vice, are an efficient force, though too harsh in their methods, 
and they keep life and property secure. 1 The fire department 
is well managed; the water supply is copious; the public 
schools are now usually, though not invariably, kept " out of 
politics." If the government is not economical, it is not pal- 
pably extravagant ; and the rulers who grow rich through it 
do so by indirect methods, and not out of the city treasury. 
Scandals like those of Tweed's time are unknown. The city 
debt has been reduced since 1876 to $104,000,000, though it 
must be added that the swift increase of the wealth of the 
city has enabled a rate of taxation moderate for the United 
States ($1.85 to $1.79 on the valuation of property) to pro- 
duce an immense revenue. 2 Considering what by origin, by 
training, by environment, and by tastes and habits, are the 
persons who rule the cit} r through Tammany — considering the 
criminal element among them and their close association with 
the liquor saloons, it may excite surprise that the government, 
corrupt as it is, is not also more wasteful. 3 

Those who have grasped the singular condition of New York 
and its population, will find it less surprising that this gov- 
ernment should have proved itself so hard to overthrow. 
In 1890 a great effort to overthrow it was made. A section 
of the Democrats leagued itself with the Republicans to bring 
out what was understood to be " a joint ticket," while the Inde- 

1 The Senate Committee has elicited the fact — already indeed suspected — 
that an applicant for employment in the police must pay for appointment, and 
an officer must contribute a large sum either to the Ring or to the Police Com- 
missioners for promotion. 

2 " The increase in the assessed valuation of property (real and personal) 
in New York City is annually about $70,000,000 ; and in 1893 reached the un- 
precedented sum of $105,254,253." — City Government in the U. S., by Mr. 
Alfred R. Conkling, New York, 1894. 

3 ' ' The city is governed to-day by three or four men of foreign birth who 
are very illiterate, are sprung from the dregs of the foreign population, have 
never pursued any regular calling, were entirely unknown to the bulk of the 
residents only five years ago, and now set the criticisms of the intelligent and 
educated classes at defiance." — Annals of the Amer. Acad., ut supra. 



chap, iwxviii THE TAMMANY RING 408 

pendent Reformers Mossed the alliance, and endorsed its candi- 
dates. 1 Success had boon hoped for; but Tammany routed its 
adversaries by 23,000 votes. It turned out that about 30, 000 
Republicans had not voted, — some because their bosses, secretly 
friendly to Tammany, did not canvass them, some because they 
did not care to vote for anything but a Republican ticket, 
some out of sheer indifference and laziness. Strongly en- 
trenched as Tammany is, Tammany could be overthrown if the 
" good citizens' 1 were to combine for municipal reform, setting 
aside for local purposes those distinctions of national party 
which have nothing to do with city issues. The rulers of the 
wigwam, as Tammany is affectionately called, do not care 
for national politics, except as a market in which the Tam- 
many vote may be sold. That the good citizens of New York 
should continue to rivet on their necks the yoke of a club 
which is almost as much a business concern as one of their 
own dry-goods stores, by dividing forces which, if united, 
would break the tyranny of the last forty years, — this indeed 
seems strange, yet perhaps no stranger than other instances of 
the power of habit, of laziness, of names and party spirit. In 
such a policy of union, and in the stimulation of a keener sense 
of public duty rather than in further changes of the mechanism 
of government, lies the best hope of reform. After the many 
failures of the past, it is not safe to be sanguine. But there 
does appear to be at this moment a more energetic spirit at 
work among reformers than has ever been seen before, and a 
stronger sense that the one supreme remedy is to strike at 
the root of the evil by arousing the conscience of the better 
classes, both rich and poor, and by holding up to them a higher 
ideal of civic life. 2 

1 Being in New York during the election, I spent some hours in watching 
the voting in the densely peopled tenement-house districts and thus came to 
realize better than figures can convey how largely New York is a European 
city, but a European city of no particular country, with elements of ignorance 
and squalor from all of them. 

- Sine*- the above was put in type (Sept., 1894) Tammany has been smitten 
with a great slaughter in the election of Nov., 1894. This result, even more 
striking than the overthrow of the Tweed Ring in Nov., 1871, seems to have 
been chiefly due to the anger roused by the exposures of police maladmini- 
stration already adverted to. Such a victory, however, is only a first step 
to the purification of municipal politics, and will need to be followed up more 
actively and persistently than was the victory of 1871. If the rowers who 
have so gallantly breasted the current drop even for a moment their stalwart 
arms, they will again be swept swiftly downwards. 



CHAPTER LXXXIX 

THE PHILADELPHIA GAS RING 

Philadelphia, though it has not maintained that primacy 
among American cities which in the days of the Eevolntion 
was secured to it by its population and its central position, is 
still one of the greatest cities in America, with a population of 
more than a million. 1 Though the element of recent immi- 
grants is much smaller than in New York or Boston or Chicago 2 
the old Quaker character has died out, or remains perceptible 
only in a certain air of staid respectability which marks the city 
as compared with the luxury of New York and the tumultuous 
rush of Chicago. It has of late years been strongly Republi- 
can in its politics, partly because that party obtained complete 
ascendency during the war, partly because Pennsylvania is a 
Protectionist State, owing to her manufacturing industries, and 
Philadelphia, as the stronghold of protection, is attached to 
the party which upholds those doctrines. During the Civil 
War the best citizens were busily absorbed in its great issues, 
and both then and for some time after, welcomed all the help 
that could be given to their party by any men who knew how 
to organize the voters and bring them up to the polls ; while 
at the same time their keen interest in national questions made 
them inattentive to municipal affairs. Accordingly, the local 
control and management of the party fell into the hands of 
obscure citizens, men who had their own ends to serve, their 
own fortunes to make, but who were valuable to the party 
because they kept it in power through their assiduous work 
among a lower class of voters. These local leaders formed 
combinations with party managers in the State legislature 
which sits at Harrisburg, the capital of Pennsylvania, and 
with a clique managed from Washington by a well-known sen- 

i In 1890 it was 1,046,964. 

2 Only fifteen per cent of the people of Philadelphia are of foreign birth, 
whereas in Boston the percentage is thirty-five and in Chicago nearly forty-two. 
404 



chap, i.xxxix THE PHILADELPHIA (.AS RING 406 

atorial family, which for a long time controlled the Penns 
nia vote in Republican national conventions and in Cong 

They were therefore strongly entrenched, having powerful 
allies, both in State politics and in Federal polities. Since 
they commanded the city vote, both these sets of politicians 
were obliged to conciliate them ; while the commercial interests 
of Philadelphia in the maintenance of a protective tariff have for 
many years pressed so strongly on the minds of her merchants 
and manufacturers as to make them unwilling to weaken the 
Republican party in either State or city by any quarrel with 
those who swayed its heavy vote. 

The obscure citizens of whom I have spoken had begun by 
acquiring influence in the primaries, and then laid their hands 
on the minor, ultimately also on the more important, city 
offices. They sometimes placed men of good social standing 
in the higher posts, but filled the inferior ones, which were 
very numerous, with their own creatures. The water depart- 
ment, the highway department, the tax department, the city 
treasurer's department, the county commissioner's office, fell 
into their hands. A mayor appointed by them rilled the police 
with their henchmen till it became a completely partisan force. 
But the centre of their power was the Gas Trust, administered 
by trustees, one of whom, by his superior activity and intelli 
gence, secured the command of the whole party machinery, and 
reached the high position of recognized Boss of Philadelphia. 
This gentleman, Mr. James M-Manes. having gained influence 
among the humbler voters, was appointed one of the Gas 
Trustees, and soon managed to bring the whole of that depart- 
ment under his control. It employed (1 was told) about two 
thousand persons, received large sums, and gave out large 
contracts. Appointing his friends and dependants to the 
chief pjlaces under the Trust, and requiring them to fill the 
ranks of its ordinary workmen with persons on whom they 
could rely, the Boss acquired the control of a considerable 
number of votes and of a large annual revenue. He and his 
confederates then purchased a controlling interest in the prin- 
cipal horse-car (street tramway) company of the city, whereby 
they became masters of a large number of additional voters. 
All these voters were of course expected to act as " workers," 
i.e. they occupied themselves with the party organization of 



406 ILLUSTRATIONS AND REFLECTIONS part v 

the city, they knew the meanest streets and those who dwelt 
therein, they attended and swayed the primaries, and when an 
election came round, they canvassed and brought up the voters. 
Their power, therefore, went far beyond their mere voting 
strength, for a hundred energetic "workers" mean at least a 
thousand votes. With so much strength behind them, the Gas 
Ring, and Mr. M'Manes at its head, became not merely indis- 
pensable to the Republican party in the city, but in fact its 
chiefs, able therefore to dispose of the votes of all those who 
were employed permanently or temporarily in the other depart- 
ments of the city government — a number which one hears 
estimated as high as twenty thousand. 1 Nearly all the munici- 
pal offices were held by their nominees. They commanded a 
majority in the Select council and Common council. They 
managed the nomination of members of the State legislature. 
Even the Federal officials in the custom-house and post-office 
were forced into a dependent alliance with them, because their 
support was so valuable to the leaders in Federal politics that 
it had to be purchased by giving them their way in city affairs. 
There was no getting at the Trust, because " its meetings were 
held in secret, its published annual report to the city councils 
was confused and unintelligible, and (as was subsequently 
proved) actually falsified." 2 Mr. M'Manes held the pay rolls 
under lock and key, so that no one could know how many em- 
ployes there were, and it was open to him to increase their 

1 The ballot did not protect these voters. Prior to the introduction of the 
so-called ' Australian ' ballot in 1891 it was generally possible for the presiding 
election officer to know how each man voted. 

2 See Report of the Committee of One Hundred, published November, 1884. 
A leading citizen of Philadelphia, from whom I have sought an explanation of 
the way in which the Gas Trust had managed to entrench itself, writes me as 
f olio ws : — " When in 1835 gas was first introduced in Philadelphia, it was 
manufactured by a private company, but the city reserved the right to buy 
out the stockholders. When this was done, in 1841, with the object of keeping 
the works ' out of politics,' the control was vested in a board of twelve, each 
serving for three years. These were constituted trustees of the loans issued 
for the construction and enlargement of the works. Their appointment was 
lodged in the hands of the city councils ; but when, on more than one occasion, 
the councils endeavoured to obtain control of the works, the courts were 
appealed to, and decided that the board, as trustees for the bondholders, could 
not be interfered with until the last of the bonds issued under this arrangement 
had matured and had been paid off. Thirty-year loans under these conditions 
were issued until 1855, so that it was not until 1885 that the city was able to 
break within the charmed circle of the Trust." 



chap, lxxxix THE PHILADELPHIA GAS KING 40. 



number to any extent. The city councils might indeed ask for 
information, bnt he was careful to till the city councils with 
his nominees, and to keep them iu good humour by a share of 
whatever spoil there might be, and still more by a share of the 
patronage. 

That so vast and solid an edifice of power, covering the 
whole of a great city, should be based on the control of a single 
department like the Gas Trust may excite surprise. l>ut it 
must be remembered that when a number of small factions 
combine to rule a party, that faction which is a little larger, or 
better organized, or better provided with funds, than the others, 
obtains the first place among them, and may keep it so long as 
it gives to the rest a fair share of the booty, and directs the 
policy of the confederates with firmness and skill. Personal 
capacity, courage, resolution, foresight, the judicious preference 
of the substance of power to its display, are qualities whose 
union in one brain is so uncommon in any group of men that 
their possessor acquires an ascendency which lasts until he 
provokes a revolt by oppression, or is seen to be leading his 
party astray.- And by the admission even of his enemies, Mr. 
Jl-Manes possessed these qualities. His origin was humble, 
his education scanty, but he atoned for these deficiencies by 
tact and knowledge of the world, with a quietly decorous de- 
meanour veiling an imperious will. He knew how to rule 
without challenging opposition by the obtrusion of his own 
personality, nor does he seem to have used his power to plunder 
the city for his own behoof. The merit of the system was that 
it perpetuated itself, and in fact grew stronger the longer it 
stood. Whenever an election was in prospect the ward prima- 
ries of the Eepublican party were thronged by the officers and 
workpeople of the Gas Trust and other city departments, who 
secured the choice of such delegates as the King had previously 
selected in secret conclave. Sometimes, especially in the wards 
inhabited by the better sort of citizens, this " official list " of 
delegates was resisted by independent men belonging to the 
Eepublican party ; but as the chairman was always in the 
interest of the Ring, he rarely failed so to jockey these Inde- 
pendents that even if they happened to have the majority pres- 
ent, they could not carry their candidates. Of course it seldom 
happened that they could bring a majority with them, while 



408 ILLUSTRATIONS AND REFLECTIONS part v 

argument would have been wasted on the crowd of employes 
and their friends with which the room was filled, and who were 
bound, some by the tenure of their office, others by the hope of 
getting office or work, to execute the behests of their political 
masters. The delegates chosen were usually office-holders, with 
a sprinkling of public works contractors, liquor-dealers, always 
a potent factor in ward politics, and office expectants. For 
instance, the Convention of 13th January, 1881, for nominating 
a candidate for mayor, consisted of 199 delegates, 86 of whom 
were connected with some branch of the city government, 9 
were members of the city councils, 5 were police magistrates, 
4 constables, and 23 policemen, while of the rest some were 
employed in some other city department, and some others were 
the known associates and dependants of the King. These dele- 
gates, assembled in convention of the party, duly went through 
the farce of selecting and voting for persons already deter- 
mined on by the Eing as candidates for the chief offices. The 
persons so selected thereby became the authorized candidates 
of the party, for whom every good party man was expected to 
give his vote. Disgusted he might be to find a person unknown, 
or known only for evil, perhaps a fraudulent bankrupt, or a 
broken-down bar keeper, proposed for his acceptance. But as 
his only alternative was to vote for the Democratic nominee, 
who was probably no better, he submitted, and thus the party 
was forced to ratify the choice of the Boss. The possession of 
the great city offices gave the members of the Ring the means 
not only of making their own fortunes, but of amassing a large 
reserve fund to be used for " campaign purposes." Many of 
these offices were paid by fees and not by salary. Five officers 
were at one time in the receipt of an aggregate of $223,000, or 
an average of $44,600 each. One, the collector of delinquent 
taxes, received nearly $200,000 a year. Many others had the 
opportunity, by giving out contracts for public works on which 
they received large commissions, of enriching themselves almost 
without limit, because there was practically no investigation of 
their accounts. 1 The individual official was of course required 

1 In the suit subsequently instituted against the gas trustees, it was 
shown that in six years the trust had in cash losses, illegal transactions, and 
manufacturing losses due to corrupt management, involved the city in an 
expense of three and a half millions of dollars. These were the .figures so 



chap, lxxxix THE PHILADELPHIA GAS RING 409 



to contribute to the secret party funds in proportion to his in- 
come, and while he paid in thousands of dollars from his vast, 
private gains, assessments were levied on the minor employe's 
down to the very policemen. On one occasion each member of 
the police force was required to pay $25, and some afterwards 
a further tax of $10, for party purposes. Any one who refused, 
and much more, of course, any one who asserted his right to 
vote as he pleased, was promptly dismissed. The fund was 
spent in what is called " fixing- things up," in canvassing, in 
petty bribery, in keeping bar-rooms open and supplying drink 
to the workers who resort thither, and, at election times, in 
bringing in armies of professional personators and repeaters 
from Washington, Baltimore, and other neighbouring cities, to 
swell the vote for the Ring nominees. These men, some of 
them, it is said, criminals, others servants in the government 
departments in the national capital, could, of course, have ef- 
fected little if the election officials and the police had looked 
sharply after them. But those who presided at the voting 
places were mostly in the plot, being King men and largely city 
employes, while the police — and herein not less than in their 
voting power lies the value of a partisan police — had instruc- 
tions not to interfere with the strangers, but to allow them to 
vote as often as they pleased, while hustling away keen-eyed 
opponents. 1 

This kind of electioneering is costly, for secrecy must be 
well paid for, and in other ways also the Eing was obliged to 
spend heavily. Regarding each municipal department chiefly 
as a means of accumulating subservien . electors, it was always 
tempted to "create new voting-stock ri (to use the technical 
expression), i.e. to appoint additional employes. This meant 
additional salaries, so the taxpayers had the satisfaction of 
knowing that the sums they paid went to rivet on their necks 
the yoke of the bosses, just as a Greek tyrant exacted from 
the citizens money to hire the mercenaries who garrisoned the 
Acropolis. And there was of course a vast deal of peculation 

far as ascertained in November, 1884. — Report of the Committee of One 
Hundred, p. ii. 

1 A policeman is by law forbidden to approach within thirty feet of the 
voter. Who was to see that the law was observed when the guardians of 
the law broke it : according to the proverb, If water chokes, what is one to 
drink next 9 



410 ILLUSTRATIONS AND REFLECTIONS 



in nearly all the departments ; because clerks who had it in 
their power to disclose damaging secrets had little to fear, 
either from a superior or from the councilmen who had pro- 
cured their appointment. Thus the debt of the city swelled 
rapidly. In 1860 it stood at about $20,000,000 (£4,000,000). 
In 1881 it had reached $70,000,000 (£14,000,000). Taxation 
rose in proportion, till in 1881 it amounted to between one- 
fourth and one-third of the net income from the property on 
which it was assessed, although that property was rated at 
nearly its full value. 1 Yet withal, the city was badly paved, 
badly cleansed, badly supplied with gas (for which a high price 
was charged) and with water. 2 That such a burden should 
have been borne, with so little to show for it, was all the more 
surprising, because in Philadelphia there is a larger number of 
well-to-do working-people, owning the houses they live in, 
than in any other city of the Union. 3 It might have been ex- 
pected, therefore, that since the evils of heavy rating and bad 
administration pressed directly on an unusually large number 
of electors, the discontent would have been universal, the 
demand for reform overwhelming. 4 

But how was reform to be effected ? Three methods pre- 
sented themselves. One was to proceed against the Gas Trus- 
tees and other peculators in the courts of the State. But to 
make out a case, the facts must first be ascertained, the accounts 
examined. Now the city departments did not publish all their 
accounts, or published them in a misleading and incomplete 
form. The powers which should have scrutinized them and 
compelled a fuller disclosure, were vested in the councils of 
the city, acting by their standing committees. But these 
councils were mainly composed of members or nominees of the 
Ring, who had a direct interest in suppressing inquiry, because 
they either shared the profits of dishonesty, or had placed their 
own relatives and friends in municipal employment by bargains 

1 1 take these facts from an interesting paper on the Form of Municipal 
Government for Philadelphia, by Mr. John C. Bullitt, Philadelphia, 1882. 

2 See Chapter LI., p. 606 of Vol. I. 

3 There were in Philadelphia in 1886, 90,000 individual owners of real estate, 
constituting more than a majority of all the votes ever cast in an election. 

4 During a considerable part of the time the enormous annual expenditure 
for " city improvements " was defrayed out of fresh loans, so the citizens did 
not realize the burden that was being laid on them. 



CHAP, i.xxxix THE PHILADELPHIA GAS RING 411 



with the peculating- heads of departments. They therefore 
refused to move, and voted down the proposals for investi- 
gation made by a few of their more public-spirited col- 
leagues. 1 

Another method was to turn out the corrupt officials at the 
next election. The American system of short terms and pop- 
ular elections was originally due to a distrust of the officials, 
and expressly designed to enable the people to recall misused 
powers. The astuteness of professional politicians had, how- 
ever, made it unavailable. Good citizens could not hope to 
carry candidates of their own against the tainted nominees of 
the Ringj because the latter having the " straight " or " regular " 
party nominations would command the vote of the great mass 
of ordinary party men, so that the only effect of voting against 
them would at best be to let in the candidates of the opposite, 
i.e. the Democratic, party. Those candidates were usually no 
better than the Eepublican Ring nominees, so where was the 
gain? And the same reason, joined to party hostility, forbade 
good Republicans to vote for Democratic candidates. The 
Democrats, to be sure, might have taken advantage of Eepub- 
lican discontent by nominating really good men, who would in 
that case have been carried by the addition of the Republican 
" bolting " vote to the regular Democratic vote. But the Dem- 
ocratic wire-pullers, being mostly men of the same stamp as 
the Gas Ring, did not seek a temporary gain at the expense of 
a permanent disparagement of their own class. Political 
principles are the last thing which the professional city poli- 
tician cares for. It was better worth the while of the Demo- 
cratic chiefs to wait for their turn, and in the meantime to get 
something out of occasional bargains with their (nominal) 

1 A friend in Philadelphia writes me : — "It might be thought that the power 
of election vested in the councils would enable the latter to control the trustees, 
but when ' politics ' invaded the trust, a vicious circle speedily established 
itself, and the trust controlled the councils. Its enormous pay-roll enabled it 
to employ numerous ' workers ' in each of the 600 or 700 election divisions of 
the city, and aspirants for seats in the councils found it almost impossible to 
obtain either nomination or election without the favour of the trust. Thus 
the councils became rilled with its henchmen or 'heelers,' submissive to its 
bidding, not only in the selection of trustees to fill the four yearly vacancies, 
but in every detail of city government with which the leaders of the trust 
desired to interfere. It is easy to understand the enormous possibilities of 
power created by such a position." 



412 ILLUSTRATIONS AND REFLECTIONS part v 

Republican opponents, than to strengthen the canse of good 
government at the expense of the professional class. 1 

The third avenue to reform lay through the action of the 
State legislature. It might have ordered an inquiry into the 
municipal government of Philadelphia, or passed a statute pro- 
viding for the creation of a better system. But this avenue 
was closed even more completely than the other two by the 
control which the City Ring exercised over the State legislat- 
ure. The Pennsylvania Honse of Representatives was notori- 
ously a tainted body, and the Senate no better, or perhaps 
worse. The Philadelphia politicians, partly by their command 
of the Philadelphia members, partly by the other inducements 
at their command, were able to stop all proceedings in the 
legislature hostile to themselves, and did in fact, as will ap- 
pear presently, frequently balk the efforts which the reformers 
made in that quarter. It was enough for their purpose to 
command one House; indeed it was practically enough to 
command the committee of that one House to which a measure 
is referred. The facilities for delay are such that a reforming 
bill can be stifled without the need of open opposition. 

This was the condition of the Quaker City with its 850,000 
people ; these the difficulties reformers had to encounter. Let 
us see how they proceeded. 

In 1870, a bill was passed by the State legislature at Harris- 
burg, at the instigation of the City Ring, then in the first flush 
of youthful hope and energy, creating a Public Buildings Com- 
mission for the city of Philadelphia, a body with an unlimited 
term of office, with power to enlarge its numbers, and fill up 
vacancies among its members, to tax the city and to spend the 
revenue so raised on buildings, practically without restriction 
or supervision. When this Act, which had been passed in one 
day through both Houses, without having been even printed, 
came to the knowledge of the better class of citizens, alarm 
arose, and an agitation was set on foot for its abrogation. A 
public meeting was held in March, 1871, a committee formed, 
with instructions to proceed to Harrisburg, and have the Act 
repealed. The committee went to Harrisburg and urged mem- 

1 It was generally believed in February, 1881, that the Democratic bosses 
had made a bargain (for valuable consideration) with the Gas Ring not to 
nominate Mr. Hunter, the reformers' candidate, for the receivership of taxes. 



chap. i. wxix THE PHILADELPHIA GAS KING 413 

bera of both Houses to support a repealing bill introduced into 
the State Senate. In May this bill passed the Senate, in which 
there was then a Democratic majority, five Republican mem- 
bers voting for it. However, a eommittee of the (Republican) 
House of Representatives reported against the repeal, influ- 
enced by interested persons from Philadelphia, and (as is gen- 
erally believed) influenced by arguments weightier than words; 
so the Commission was maintained in force. The incident 
had, however, so far roused a few of the better class of Repub- 
licans, that they formed a Municipal Reform Association, 
whose career has been summarized for me by an eminent citi- 
zen of Philadelphia, in the words which follow : — 

"The Association laboured earnestly to check the tide of misgovern- 
ment. Its task was a difficult one, for the passions aroused by the war 
were still vigorous, the reconstruction in progress in the South kept parti- 
sanship at a white heat, and fealty to party obligations was regarded as a 
sacred duty by nearly all classes. Consequently it had no newspaper sup- 
port to depend upon, and as a rule it met with opposition from the leaders 
of both political organizations. Moreover, the laws regulating the registry 
of voters and the conduct of elections had been so framed as to render 
fraud easy and detection difficult. Undeterred by these obstacles, the 
Association set itself vigorously to work ; it held public meetings, it issued 
addresses and tracts, it placed tickets in the field consisting of the better 
candidates of either party, and when neither had made passable nomina- 
tions for an office, it put forward those of its own. It continued in active 
existence for three or four years, and accomplished much of what it set 
out to do. Occasionally it succeeded in defeating specially objectionable 
candidates, and in electing better men to the city councils ; the increase 
in the public debt was checked, the credit of the city was improved, and 
economy began to be practised in some of the departments ; salaries were 
substituted for fees in the public offices ; the election laws were revised, 
and honest elections became possible ; prosecutions were instituted against 
offenders, and enough convictions were secured to serve as a wholesome 
warning. The services of the Association were especially apparent in 
two directions. It contributed largely to the agitations which secured the 
calling of a convention in 1873 to revise the State constitution, it had a 
salutary influence with the convention, and it aided in obtaining the rati- 
fication of the new constitution by the people. Still more important was 
its success in arousing the public conscience, and in training a class of in- 
dependent voters, who gradually learned to cast their ballots without 
regard to so-called party fealty. It thus opened the way for all subse- 
quent reforms, and when its members, wearied with its thankless task, 
one by one withdrew, and the Association disbanded, they could feel that 
not only was the condition of the city materially improved, but that their 



414 ILLUSTRATIONS AND REFLECTIONS part v 

successors in the Sisyphean labour would have a lighter burden and a 
less rugged ascent to climb. One important result of the attention which 
they had drawn to municipal mismanagement was the passage of an act 
of the legislature, under which, in 1877, the governor of the State appointed 
a commission of eleven persons to devise a plan for the government of 
cities. This commission made a report proposing valuable improvements, 
and submitted it, with a bill embodying their suggestions, to the State 
legislature in 1878. The legislature, however, at the bidding of the 
Rings, for Pittsburg and other cities have their Rings as well as Philadel- 
phia, smothered the bill, and all efforts to pass it failed till 1885." 

In the course of 1880, the horizon began to clear. 1 Several 
honest and outspoken men who had found their way into the 
two councils of the city, denounced the prevailing corruption, 
and by demands of inquiry began to rouse the citizens. A 
correspondent of a New York paper obtained facts about the 
management of the G-as Trust which, when published, told 
seriously on opinion. At the November election, while Phila- 
delphia cast a heavy vote in favour of General Garfield as 
Eepublican candidate for the Presidency, and for the Eepubli- 
can nominees for the offices of State Auditor-General, and judge 
of the State Supreme Court, she returned as City Controller 
a young Democrat, who having, with the help of the Munici- 
pal Keform Association, found his way into that office at the 
last preceding election, had signalized himself by uprightness 
and independence. The Eepublican bosses did their utmost 
against him, but the vote of independents among the Eepubli- 
cans, joined to that of the Democratic party (whose bosses, 
although secretly displeased with his conduct, did not openly 
throw him over), carried him in. Thirteen days afterwards, 
under the impulse of this struggle, an energetic citizen con- 
vened a meeting of leading merchants to set on foot a move- 
ment for choosing good men at the elections due in February, 
1881. This meeting created a committee of one hundred busi- 
ness men, including a large number of persons bearing the 
oldest and most respected names in Philadelphia. All were 
Eepublicans, and at first they endeavoured to effect their 

1 In the narrative which follows I have derived much assistance from a little 
hook by Mr. George Vickers, entitled The Fall of Bossism (Philadelphia, 
1883) , which, with some oddities of style, contains many instructive details 
of the doings of the Bosses and the Reform Campaign. Some information as 
to Ring methods in Philadelphia may also be gathered from a lively satire 
published anonymously, entitled Solid for Mulhooly (New York, 1881) . 



CHAP. LXZXIZ THE lMIILADKLlMII A GAS KINC 415 



purposes by means, and within the limits, of the Republican 
party. They prepared a declaration of principles, containing 
their programme of municipal reform, ami resolved to support 
no candidate who would not sign it. Soon the time came for 
making nominations lor the three offices to be filled up, viz., 
those of mayor, receiver of taxes, and city solicitor. For mayor, 
the '-regular" Republican party, controlled by Mr. M'Manes, 
nominated Mr. Stokley, who was then in office, a man against 
whom no fraud could be charged, but whose management of 
the police force and subservience to the Boss had made him 
suspected by earnest reformers. At first, in the belief that he 
was prepared to subscribe their declaration, the One Hundred 
gave him their nomination ; but when it turned out that he, 
influenced by the Ring, refused to do so, they withdrew their 
"indorsement," and perceived that the time had come for a 
bolder course. Since they must resist the Ring Republicans, 
they invited the co-operation of the Democratic party in choos- 
ing a good man. The novelty of the circumstances, and the 
opportunity of doing a good stroke for their party and their 
city at once, brought to the front the best element among the 
Democrats. Overruling their bosses by a sudden movement, 
the Democratic convention nominated Mr. King for the mayor- 
alty, a bold and honest man, whom, though a Democrat, the 
committee of One Hundred promptly accepted. For the not 
less important office of receiver of taxes, the One Hundred 
had nominated Mr. Hunter, a Republican, who had approved 
his public spirit by upright service in the common council. 
The Ring Republicans had taken for their candidate an un- 
known man, supposed to be a creature of Mr. M'Manes ; and 
everything now turned on the conduct of the Democratic nom- 
inating convention. It was strongly urged by the feeling of 
the people to accept Mr. Hunter. But the Democratic bosses 
had no mind to help a reformer, and even among the better 
men, the old dislike to supporting a person belonging to the 
opposite party was strong. A passionate struggle in the Dem- 
ocratic convention, round whose doors a vast and eager crowd 
had gathered, resulted in the carrying by a small majority of 
a regular party candidate named M'G-rath against Mr. Hunter. 
Thereupon the delegates who supported Hunter seceded, and 
marched, escorted and cheered by excited crowds, to the rooms 



416 ILLUSTRATIONS AND REFLECTIONS part v 

of the One Hundred, where they organized themselves afresh 
as an Independent convention, and nominated Hunter. Im- 
mense enthusiasm was evoked in both parties by this novel 
and unexpectedly bold action. Independent Democrats organ- 
ized clubs and committees in Hunter's cause, and the move- 
ment spread so fast that ten days before the election M'Grath 
retired, leaving the regular Democrats free to cast their votes 
for the Republican Hunter, along with the Democratic King. 
Only one chance was now left to the Gas Ring — the lavish 
expenditure of money, and the resort to election frauds. They 
assessed the police, about 1300 in number, $20 a head to 
replenish the campaign fund, levying assessments on the other 
city departments also. Preparations for repeating and ballot- 
box stuffing were made as in former days, but the energy of 
the One Hundred, who, while they issued a circular to clergy- 
men of all denominations, requesting them to preach sermons 
on the duty of electors, issued also notices threatening prose- 
cution against any one guilty of an election fraud, and organ- 
ized a large force of volunteer citizens to look after the police, 
so much frightened the Ringsters and their dependents, that 
the voting was conducted with fairness and purity. The ex- 
citement on the polling day was unprecedented in municipal 
politics, and the success of the reform candidates who were 
chosen, King by a majority of six thousand, Hunter by twenty 
thousand, was welcomed with transports of joy. Astraea had 
returned — the "City of Independence" was again a city of 
freedom. 

The committee of One Hundred, to whose efforts the victory 
was mainly due, was kept on foot to carry on and perfect the 
work of reform. It recommended candidates at the spring and 
fall elections during the three years that followed, obtaining 
for them a measure of success encouraging, no doubt, yet less 
complete than had been expected. It retained counsel to aid 
in a suit instituted against the Gas Trustees, which resulted 
in disclosing scandalous waste and fraud, and led to a great 
improvement in the management of that department. It in- 
duced the State legislature to reduce the salaries of a number 
of over-paid officials, and to place on a permanent basis the 
salaries of judges which had hitherto been voted annually. 
The Mayor, whom it had carried in 1881, stopped the assess- 



ohap. i.\\\i\ THE PHILADELPHIA GAS KING 417 

meiit of the police for "campaign purposes," and rigidly 
restrained them from joining in the nominating conventions 
or Interfering with voters at the polls. The tax office was 
reorganized by the new Receiver, and the income which its 
employes depleted turned into the city treasury. The system 
of banking city moneys, which had been used for political pur- 
poses, was reformed under an ordinance of the city councils, 
secured by the efforts of the committee. The lists of voters, 
which had been carelessly and sometimes corruptly made up, 
were set to rights, and capable men appointed assessors instead 
of the ward politicians, often illiterate, to whom this duty had 
been previously entrusted. Au inspector of highways was 
engaged by the committee to report cases in which contractors 
were failing to do the work in repairing streets and drains for 
which they were paid, and frauds were unearthed by which 
the city had been robbed of hundreds of thousands of dollars. 
Gross abuses in the management of the city almshouse and 
hospital were revealed ; a new administration was installed, 
which in its first year saved the city $80,000; while the con- 
viction and imprisonment of the chief offenders struck whole- 
some terror into evil-doers in other departments. Finally, the 
committee undertook the prosecution of a large number of 
persons accused of fraud, repeating, personation, violence, tam- 
pering with ballot-boxes, and other election offences, and by 
convicting some and driving others from the city, so much 
reduced these misdemeanours that in the end of 1883 the city 
elections were pronounced to show a clean bill of health. 1 

Work so various and so difficult cost the members of the 
committee of One Hundred, who were nearly all men actively 
engaged in business, and had passed a self-denying ordinance 
binding themselves to accept no personal political advantage, 
an infinitude of time and trouble. Accordingly, when they 
found that the candidates, whom they had recommended at 
the election of February, 1884, had been rejected in favour of 
other candidates, who made similar professions of reform, but 
seemed less likely, from their past history, to fulfil those pro- 

1 The committee observe in the Report that the party organization of the 
city, in nearly every instance, did its utmost by supplying bail, employing 
counsel, and rendering other assistance to protect the culprits, who were 
regarded as sufferers for the sake of their pany. 

VOL. II - 2E 



418 ILLUSTRATIONS AND REFLECTIONS part v 

fessions, they determined to wind up and dissolve the commit- 
tee. It had done great things, and its failure to carry its can- 
didates at this last election was due partly to the intrusion 
into municipal politics of the national issue of the protective 
tariff (the most burning of all questions to Philadelphians), 
partly to that languor which creeps over voters who fancy that 
by doing their duty strenuously for some years they have mor- 
tally wounded the power of corruption and need not keep up 
the fight till it is stone dead. 

A recent authority sums up the situation thus : — 

" The committee of One Hundred fought the Ring at every point and 
at all points for city and county officers, the council, and the legislature, 
the plan being to unite for the nominations of the two great parties and 
endorse one or the other of the candidates, or even nominate candidates 
of their own. They sent tickets to every citizen, and created the class of 
' vest-pocket voters ' — men who come to the polls with their tickets made 
up, to the confusion of 'the boys.' They changed for a while the com- 
plexion of councils, elected a reform mayor and receiver of taxes, caused 
the repeal of the infamous Delinquent Tax Collections Bill, and the 
equally notorious and obnoxious Recorder's Bill, and generally made a 
more decent observance of the law necessary throughout the city. In its 
nature, however, the remedy was esoteric and revolutionary, and there- 
fore necessarily ephemeral. It could not retain the spoils system and 
thereby attract the workers. Its candidates, when elected, often betrayed 
it and went over to the regulars, who, they foresaw, had more staying 
qualities. Its members became tired of the thankless task of spending 
time and money in what must be a continuous, unending battle. The 
people became restive, and refused their support to what jarred on their 
conservative ideas, and what they were pleased to call the dictation of 
an autocratic, self-constituted body. The cry was raised : ' Who made 
thee a ruler and judge over us ? ' 

" In 1883 the committee's candidate for controller was defeated in a 
pitched battle, and the following spring the reform mayor was beaten by 
over 7000 votes by the most advanced type of a machine politician, who 
has since been impeached by his own party in Common Council for 
pecuniary malfeasance." i 

The above extract was written in 1883. Since that year 
there have been changes for the better in the city adminis- 
tration of Philadelphia, which I touch on but briefly, since 
it is to the Gas King episode that this chapter is specially 

1 Mr. E. P. Allinson and Mr. B. Penrose, in an article on " City Government 
in Philadelphia. ' ' For a history of municipal government in the city, reference 
may be made to the treatise, "Philadelphia, 1681-1887," of the same authors. 



ohap.lxxxix THE PHILADELPHIA (IAS RING 419 

devoted. A bill for reforming municipal government by the 
enactment of a new city charter, approved by the One Hun- 
dred, came before the State Legislature in 1883. It was there 
smothered by the professionals at the instance of the Gas 

King. When it reappeared in the legislature of 1885 circum- 
stances were more favourable. The relations between the 
State Boss of Pennsylvania and the City King headed by Boss 
ffl Manes were strained. The State Boss seems, while wish- 
ing to cripple the City King by cutting off some of its patron- 
age, to have thought that it would be well to conciliate the 
good citizens of Philadelphia by giving his powerful support 
to a reform measure. He was the more drawn to this course 
because the Mayor of Philadelphia, whose appointing power 
would be enlarged by the bill, was, although not a " high-class 
politician," far from friendly to the Gas Trust. Long discus- 
sions of the bill in the press and at meetings had produced 
some effect even on the State legislature at Harrisburg; nor 
was there wanting in that body a small section of good mem- 
bers willing to help reform forward. Many leaders and most 
newspapers had in the course of the discussions been led to 
commit themselves to an approval of the bill, while not expect- 
ing it to pass. Thus, in 1885, the opposition in the legislature 
ceased to be open and direct, and came to turn on the questipn 
when the bill, if passed, should take effect. Its promoters 
prudently agreed to let its operation be delayed till 1887 ; and 
having thus " squared " some of their opponents, and out- 
manoeuvred others, they ran it through. Public opinion and a 
righteous cause counted for something in this triumph, but 
even public opinion and righteousness might have failed but 
for the feud between Mr. M' Manes and the State Boss. 

The new city charter has worked for good. By bringing gas 
management under the control of the city executive, it extin- 
guished the separate Gas Trust, and therewith quenched the 
light of Mr. M-Manes, who ceased to be formidable when his 
patronage departed, and has now become "a back number." 
Municipal administration has gained by the concentration of 
power and responsibility in the mayor and the executive heads 
of departments whom he appoints. The Councils, however, 
are still bad bodies, few of the members respected, many of 
them corrupt. The}' are still nominated by a clique of machine 



420 ILLUSTRATIONS AND REFLECTIONS part v 

politicians, and this clique they obey, paying some regard to 
the interests of their respective wards, but none to those of the 
city. Reformers think that to give them a salary might lessen 
their temptations, since it seems impossible to raise their tone. 
In the stead of Mr. M'Manes, the State Boss now reigns 
through his lieutenants ; and so tight is his grip of the city, 
that when, in 1890, the suspicions he aroused had provoked 
a popular uprising which overthrew his nominee for the State 
governorship, turning over to the other party some thirty 
thousand votes, he was still able to hold Philadelphia — 
rich, educated, staid, pious Philadelphia — by a large majority. 
Elections continue to be tainted with fraud and bribery ; the 
politicians still refuse the enactment of adequate laws for a 
secret ballot and the publication of election expenses. Per- 
haps the most menacing power is that wielded by the great 
local corporations, including the railroad and tramway or 
street-car companies. Whether by the use of money, or, as is 
thought more probable, by influencing the votes of their 
employes, or by both methods, these corporations seem to hold 
the councils in the hollow of their hands. One of them lately 
secured from the city legislature, at a merely nominal figure, 
a public franchise, which, while it made the streets more 
dangerous, added to the market price of its stock about 
$6,600,000. And this was done by a two-thirds majority over 
the veto of the mayor, in the teeth of an active agitation con- 
ducted by the most worthy citizens. Against scandals like 
this the best city charter furnishes little protection. They 
can be cured only by getting upright Councils, and these again 
can be secured only by having free instead of cooked nomina- 
tions, honest elections, and a far more constantly active 
interest in the welfare of city than the mass of the voters 
have hitherto evinced. Philadelphia is not the only city in 
which private corporations have proved more than a match 
for public interests, and in which such corporations have 
netted immense profits, that ought to have gone to reduce the 
burdens of the people. 1 

Against these evils a strenuous campaign has been con- 

1 It is stated by the Municipal League that the city has of recent years lost 
as much as $50,000,000 by improvident grants of valuable purchases to street 
railroad companies. 



cn.u\ i.xxxix THE PHILADELPHIA CAS RING 421 

ducted by various associations of " good citizens," some perma- 
nent, some formed for a special occasion. Two such, of which 
it is enough to say that they are worthy successors of the 
Committee of One Hundred, are now at work. They include 
nearly all those in whom high personal character is united 
to a sense of public duty. But their members have hitherto 
formed so small a proportion of the voters that it is only wheu 
some glaringly bad candidate is nominated or outrageous job 
perpetrated that their efforts tell in an election. 

The European reader will have found four things surprising 
in the foregoing narrative — the long-suffering of the tax- 
payers up till 1881 ; the strength of party loyalty, even in 
municipal affairs where no political principle is involved ; the 
extraordinary efforts required to induce the voters to protect 
their pockets by turning a gang of plunderers out of office ; 
and the tendency of the old evils to reappear as soon as the 
ardour of the voters cools. He will be all the more surprised 
when he learns that most of the corrupt leaders in Philadel- 
phia are not Irishmen, but Americans born and bred, and that 
in none of the larger cities is the percentage of recent immi- 
grants so small. The general causes of municipal misgovern- 
ment have been discussed in preceding chapters, but it may be 
well to repeat that the existence of universal suffrage in a city of 
a million of people imposes a vast amount of work on those who 
would win an election. Nothing but a very complete and very 
active ward organization, an organization which knows every 
house in every street, and drops upon the new voter from 
Europe as soon as residence and the oath have made him a 
citizen, can grapple with the work of bringing up these multi- 
tudes to the poll. It was their command of this local organi- 
zation, their practice in working it, the fact that their employes 
were a trained and disciplined body whose chief business 
was to work it — services in the gas or water or some other 
department being a mere excuse for paying the "workers" 
a salary — that gave the Gas Ring and its astute head their 
hold upon the voting power of the city, which all the best 
Republicans, with frequent aid from the Democrats, found it 
so hard to shake. It is the cohesion of this organization, the 
indifference of the bulk of its members to issues of municipal 
policy and their responsiveness to party names and cries, that 



422 ILLUSTRATIONS AND REFLECTIONS part v 

enables the henchmen of the State Boss now to wield that 
power, and with impunity to sacrifice the interests of the city 
to those of rich and vote-controlling corporations. 

The moral of the whole story is, however, best given in the 
words of four eminent Philadelphians. I multiply testimonies 
because Philadelphia is a peculiarly instructive instance of the 
evils which everywhere infect municipal government. Her 
social and economic conditions are far more favourable than 
those of New York or Chicago, and the persistence of those 
evils in her is, therefore, a more alarming symptom than the 
grosser scandals which have disgraced those cities with their 
masses of recent immigrants. 

Two of them wrote me as follows in 1888. One said : — 

"Those who study these questions most critically and think the most 
carefully, fear most for the Republic from the indifference of the better 
classes than the ignorance of the lower classes. We hear endless talk 
about the power of the Labour vote, the Irish vote, the German vote, the 
Granger vote, but no combination at the ballot-box to-day is as numerous 
or powerful as the stay-at-home vote. The sceptre which is stronger to 
command than any other is passed by unnoticed, not because outworn in 
conflict, but because rusted and wasted in neglect. The primary, the 
caucus, and the convention are the real rulers of America, and the hand 
which guides these is the master. Here again the stay-at-home vote is 
still more responsible. In New York City in 1885 there were 266,000 
voters ; of these 201,000 voted at the regular election, and between 20,000 
and 25,000 voted at the primary. This proportion would hold good the 
country over, and it appears that one out of every four does not vote at 
all, and nine out of every ten do not attend the primaries. It can there- 
fore easily be seen that it is very easy to control the primaries, and grant- 
ing strong party fealty how difficult it is to run an independent ticket 
against the machine." 

The other, Mr. Henry C. Lea, the distinguished historian, 
said : — 

"Your expression of surprise at the mal-administration of Philadelphia 
is thoroughly justified. In existing social conditions it would be difficult 
to conceive of a large community of which it would appear more safe to 
predicate judicious self-government than ours. Nowhere is there to be 
found a more general diffusion of property or a higher average standard 
of comfort and intelligence — nowhere so large a proportion of landowners 
bearing the burden of direct taxation, and personally interested in the 
wise and honest expenditure of the public revenue. In these respects it 
is almost an ideal community in which to work out practical results from 



chap. i.\x\i\ THE PlllLADKLlMllA GAS RING 128 



democratic theories. I have often speculated as to the causes of failure 
without satisfying myself with any solution, it fa not attributable to 
manhood suffrage, for in my reform labours l have found thai the most 
dangerous enemies of reform have not been the ignorant and poor, but 
men of wealth, of high Bocial position and character, who had nothing 
personally to gain from political corruption, but who showed themselves 
as unfitted to exercise the right of suffrage as the Lowest proletariat, by 
allowing their partisanship to enlist them in the support of candidates 
notoriously had who happened by control of parly machinery to obtain 
the ' regular ' nominations. 

••The nearest approach which 1 can make to an explanation is that the 
spirit of party blinds many, while still more are governed by the mental 
inertia which renders independent thought the most laborious of tasks. 
and the selfish indolence which shrinks from interrupting the daily routine 
of avocations. In a constituency so enormous the most prolonged and 
strenuous effort is required to oppose the ponderous and complicated 
machinery of party organization, which is always in the hands of profes- 
sional politicians who obtain control over it by a process of natural selec- 
tion, and who thus are perfectly fitted for the work. Recalcitrants are 
raw militia who take the field with overwhelming odds against them, 
both in numbers and discipline. Even though they may gain an oc- 
casional victory, their enthusiasm exhausts itself and they return to more 
congenial labours, while the ' regular * is always on duty, and knows, 
with Philip II., that time and he can overcome any other two." 

A third writes in 1893 : — 

•• The great majority of the voters take no interest in local politics. They 
refuse to attend the party primaries, and can rarely be. induced to do 
more than spend a few minutes once a year in voting at city elections. 
Many refuse to vote at all, or yield only to corrupt inducements or to the 
solicitations of interested friends. The result is that combinations of 
unworthy leaders and mercenary henchmen are enabled to control the 
nominating conventions of both parties ; and when election day comes, 
the people can do nothing but choose between two tickets dictated by 
equally corrupt men and nominated by similar methods. ... I do not 
therefore look for progress towards an honest and intelligent conduct 
of municipal business until a considerable part of the now indifferent 
voters can be roused to a careful consideration of the subject, and con- 
vinced of the importance of organizing for the nomination of better 
candidates, and for the exclusion of national issues and national parties 
from municipal contests." 

A fourth, writing in 1894, observes: — 

'•The most characteristic feature of the situation is the supremacy of 
the Republican party, which has an immense majority in the city. 
Politically, therefore, the controlling party managers and the class from 
which reform leaders might i>» I to come are in accord (maim- 



424 ILLUSTRATIONS AND REFLECTIONS part v 

facturing interests being the most important) ; and the advantages to be 
derived by persons in business in a large way from standing well with 
the managers of the dominant party are sufficiently great to check in no 
small degree individual inclination to strive for better conditions. As 
elsewhere in America, it is not the natural leaders in the community, 
the men who have succeeded in business or in the professions, who are 
party leaders, but men who are of no importance in any other connec- 
tion. This fastens upon us an impersonal rule, those who exercise it 
not being influenced by public opinion, which would certainly act as a 
restraint upon men of standing. . . . The councils are dominated by 
the party managers who nominated them, and corporations who pay 
wages, in one way or another, to a considerable portion of the members. 
The city charter of 1885 is a good one, and we should look not so much 
for more legislation as for some means of stimulating the people to take 
a common- sense view of municipal government and realize their respon- 
sibility for it. 

Philadelphia has just erected a magnificent city hall, the 
largest and finest building of its kind in the United States, 
with a tower, 537 feet in height, which far overtops Cologne 
Cathedral and the Pyramid of Cheops and St. Peter's at Eome. 
The thoughts of the traveller who is taken to admire it natu- 
rally turn to what goes on beneath its ample roof, and he asks 
whether the day will arrive when Philadelphian voters will 
take to heart the painful lessons of the past, and when the 
officials who reign in this municipal palace will become worthy 
of so superb a dwelling and of the city where the Declaration 
of Independence and the Federal Constitution first saw the 
light. His Philadelphian friends reply that such a day will 
doubtless arrive. But they admit that it seems still distant. 



CHAPTER XC 

KBABNEYISM IN CALIFORNIA 
I. TnE Character of California 

What America is to Europe, what Western America is to 
Eastern, that California is to the other Western States. The 
characteristics of a new and quickly developed colonial civiliza- 
tion are all strongly marked. It is thoroughly American, but 
most so in those points wherein the Old World differs from the 
New. Large fortunes are swiftly made and not less swiftly 
spent. Changes of public sentiment are sudden and violent. 
The most active minds are too much absorbed in great business 
enterprises to attend to politics ; the inferior men are frequently 
reckless and irresponsible ; the masses are impatient, accustomed 
to blame everything and everybody but themselves for the slow 
approach of the millennium, ready to try instant, even if peril- 
ous, remedies for a present evil. 

These features belong more or less to all the newer and 
rougher commonwealths. Several others are peculiar to Cali- 
fornia — a State on which I dwell the more willingly because it 
is in many respects the most striking in the whole Union, and 
has more than any other the character of a great country, 
capable of standing alone in the world. It has immense wealth 
in its fertile soil as well as in its minerals and forests. Nature 
is nowhere more imposing nor her beauties more varied. 

It grew up, after the cession by Mexico and the discovery of 
gold, like a gourd in the night. A great population had gathered 
before there was any regular government to keep it in order, 
much less any education or social culture to refine it. The 
wildness of that time passed into the blood of the people, and 
has left them more tolerant of violent deeds, more prone to 
interferences with, or supersessions of, regular law, than are the 
people of most parts of the Union. 

425 



426 ILLUSTRATIONS AND REFLECTIONS part v 

The chief occupation of the first generation of Calif ornians 
was mining, an industry which is like gambling in its influence 
on the character, with its sudden alternations of wealth and 
poverty, its long hours of painful toil relieved by bouts of 
drinking and merriment, its life in a crowd of men who have 
come together from the four winds of heaven, and will scatter 
again as soon as some are enriched and others ruined, or the 
gold in the gulch is exhausted. Moreover, mining in this region 
means gambling, not only in camps among the miners, but 
among townsfolk in the shares of the mining companies. Cali- 
fornians of all classes have formed the habit of buying and 
selling in the mining exchanges, with effects on the popular 
temper both in business and in politics which every one can 
understand. Speculation becomes a passion, patient industry is 
distasteful ; there is bred a recklessness and turbulence in the 
inner life of the man which does not fail to express itself in 
acts. 

When California was ceded to the United States, land 
speculators bought up large tracts under Spanish titles, and 
others, foreseeing the coming prosperity, subsequently acquired 
great domains by purchase, either from the railways which had 
received land grants, or directly from the government. Some 
of these speculators, by holding their lands for a rise, made it 
difficult for immigrants to acquire small freeholds, and in some 
cases checked the growth of farms. Others let their land on 
short leases to farmers, who thus came into a comparatively 
precarious and often necessitous condition ; others established 
enormous farms, in which the soil is cultivated by hired 
labourers, many of whom are discharged after the harvest — a 
phenomenon rare in the United States, which, as everybody 
knows, is a country of moderately sized farms, owned by per- 
sons who do most of their labour by their own and their chil- 
dren's hands. Thus the land system of California presents 
features both peculiar and dangerous, a contrast between great 
properties, often appearing to conflict with the general weal, 
and the sometimes hard-pressed smaller farmer, together with 
a mass of unsettled labour, thrown without work into the towns 
at certain times of the year. 1 

Everywhere in the West the power of the railways has 
1 " Latifundia perdunt Californiam," some one said to me in San Francisco. 



KEARNEYISM IN CALIFORNIA 427 



excited the jealousy of the people. In California, however, it 
lias roused most hostility, because no State has been so much 
at the mercy of one powerful corporation. The Central Pacific 

Railway, whose main line extends from San Francisco to 
Ogden in dtah, where it meets the Union Pacific and touches 
the Denver and Rio Grande system, had been up till 1877, 
when my narrative begins, the only route to the Mississippi 
valley and Atlantic, 1 and therefore possessed immense in- 
fluence over the trade of the whole State. It was controlled 
by a small knot of men who had risen from insignificance 
to affluence, held nearly all the other railway lines in Cali- 
fornia, employed an enormous number of clerks and work- 
men, and made the weight of their hand felt wherever their 
interest was involved. Alike as capitalists, as potentates, and 
as men whose rise to gigantic wealth seemed due as much to 
the growth of the State as to their own abilities, and there- 
fore to come under the principle which is called in England 
that of the " unearned increment," they excited irritation among 
the farming and trading class, as well as among the labourers. 
As great fortunes have in America been usually won by unusual 
gifts, any envy they can excite is tempered by admiration for 
the ability shown in acquiring them. The common people felt 
a kind of pride in the late Mr. A. T. Stewart, and perhaps even 
in that flagrant "monopolist," Mr. Jay G-ould. But while 
these particular railway magnates were men of talent, there 
were also in California millionaires who had grown rich merely 
by lucky speculation. They displayed their wealth with a 
vulgar and unbecoming ostentation. They did not, as rich 
men nearly always- do in the Atlantic States, bestow a large 
part of it on useful public objects. There was therefore noth- 
ing to break the wave of suspicious dislike. 

Most of the Western States have been peopled by a steady 
influx of settlers from two or three older States. Minnesota, 
for instance, and Iowa have grown by the overflow of Illinois 
and Ohio, as well as by immigration direct from Europe. But 
California was filled by a sudden rush of adventurers from all 
parts of the world. They arrived mostly via Panama, for there 

1 There are now four other transcontinental trunk lines, hut two of them 
lie far to the north, and another helongs to the same group of men who have 
controlled the Central Pacific. 



428 ILLUSTRATIONS AND REFLECTIONS part v 

was no transcontinental railway till 1869, and a great many 
came from the Southern States. This mixed multitude, bring- 
ing with it a variety of manners, customs, and ideas, formed a 
society more mobile and unstable, less governed by fixed beliefs 
and principles, than one finds in such North-western commu- 
nities as I have just mentioned. Living far away from, the 
steadying influences of the Eastern States, the Californians 
have developed, and are proud of having done so, a sort of 
Pacific type, which, though differing but slightly from the 
usual Western type, has less of the English element than one 
discovers in the American who lives on the Atlantic side of 
the Rocky Mountains. Add to this that California is the last 
place to the west before you come to Japan. That scum which 
the westward moving wave of emigration carries on its crest 
is here stopped, because it can go no farther. It accumulates 
in San Francisco, and forms a dangerous constituent in the 
population of that great and growing city — a population per- 
haps more mixed than one finds anywhere else in America, for 
Frenchmen, Italians, Portuguese, Greeks, and the children of 
Australian convicts abound there, side by side with negroes, 
Germans, and Irish. Of the Chinese one need not speak ; for, 
though they numbered in 1880 some twelve thousand, have a 
large quarter to themselves, and have given rise to the domi- 
nant question in Pacific coast politics, they do not themselves 
join in any political movement, but mingle as little with the 
whites as oil with water. 

California, more than any other part of the Union, is a 
country by itself, and San Francisco a capital. Cut off from 
the more populous parts of the Mississippi valley by an almost 
continuous desert of twelve hundred miles, across which the 
two daily trains move like ships across the ocean, separated 
from Oregon on the north by a wilderness of sparsely settled 
mountain and forest, it has grown up in its own way and ac- 
quired a sort of consciousness of separate existence. San 
Francisco dwarfs the other cities, and is a commercial and 
intellectual centre and source of influence for the surrounding 
regions, more powerful over them than is any Eastern city 
over its neighbourhood. It is a iSTew York which has got no 
Boston on one side of it, and no shrewd and orderly rural 
population on the other, to keep it in order. Hence both State 



chap, xr KK AKNI.VISM IN CALIFORNIA 420 

and city arc less steadied by national opinion than any other 
State ov city within the wide compass of the Union. 

These facts in Californian history must be borne in mind in 
order to understand the events I am about to sketch. 1 They 
show how suited is her soil to revolutionary movements. They 
suggest that movements natural here are less likely to arise in 
other parts of the Union. 

II. The Sand Lot Party 

In 1877 California was suffering from " hard times." The 
severe commercial depression which began in the Eastern 
States in 1873, and touched the lowest point about 1876, had 
reached the Pacific coast, and was aggravated there by a heavy 
fall in mining stocks. The great Bonanza finds some years 
before had ushered in a period of wild speculation. Everybody 
gambled in stocks, from railroad kings down to maidservants. 
Stocks had now r fallen, and everybody was hard hit. The 
railroad kings could stand their losses, but the clerks and shop 
assistants and workmen suffered, for their savings were gone 
and many were left heavily in debt, with their houses mort- 
gaged and no hope of redemption. Trade was bad, work was 
scarce, and for what there was of it the Chinese, walling to take 
only half the ordinary wages, competed with the white la- 
bourer. The mob of San Francisco, swelled by disappointed 
miners from the camps and labourers out of work, men lured 
from distant homes by the hope of wealth and ease in the land 
of gold, saw itself on the verge of starvation, while the splen- 
did mansions of speculators, who fifteen years before had kept 

1 The narrative which follows does not profess to he complete, for the 
difficulty of procuring adequate data was very great. When I visited San 
Francisco in 1881, and again in 1883, people were unwilling to talk ahout the 
Kearney agitation, feeling, it seemed to me, rather ashamed of it, and annoyed 
that so much should have heen made of it (more, they declared, than it 
deserved) in the Eastern States. When I asked how I could learn the facts in 
detail, they answered, '"Only hy reading through the files of the newspapers 
for the years 1877-80 inclusive." Some added, that there were so many lies 
in the newspapers that I would not have got at the facts even then. Failing 
this method, I was obliged to rely on what I could pick up in conversation. 
I have, however, derived some assistance from a brilliant article by Mr. Henry 
George, who was then a resident of San Francisco, in the Popular S 
Monthly for August, 1880. 



430 ILLUSTRATIONS AND REFLECTIONS fart v 

little shops, rose along the heights of the city, and the news- 
papers reported their luxurious banquets. In the country the 
farmers were scarcely less discontented. They, too, had " gone 
into stocks," their farms were mortgaged, and many of them 
were bankrupt. They complained that the railroads crushed 
them by heavy freight rates, and asked why they, the bone 
and sinew of the country, should toil without profit, while 
local millionaires and wealthy Eastern bondholders drew large 
incomes from the traffic which the plough of the agriculturist 
and the pickaxe of the miner had created. 

Both in the country and in the city there was disgust with 
politics and the politicians. The legislature was composed al- 
most wholly either of office-seekers from the city or of petty 
country lawyers, needy and narrow-minded men. Those who 
had virtue enough not to be "got at " by the great corporations, 
had not intelligence enough to know how to resist their devices. 
It was a common saying in the State that each successive leg- 
islature was worse than its predecessor. The meeting of the 
representatives of the people was seen with anxiety, their 
departure with relief. Some opprobrious epithet was bestowed 
upon each. One was, " the legislature of a thousand drinks " ; 
another, " the legislature of a thousand steals." County govern- 
ment was little better ; city government was even worse. The 
judges were not corrupt, but most of them, as was natural, 
considering the scanty salaries assigned to them, were inferior 
men, not fit to cope with the counsel who practised before them. 
Partly owing to the weakness of juries, partly to the intrica- 
cies of the law and the defects of the recently adopted code, 
criminal justice was halting and uncertain, and malefactors 
often went unpunished. It became a proverb that you might 
safely commit a murder if you took the advice of the best 
lawyers. 

Neither Democrats nor Republicans had done, or seemed 
likely to do, anything to remove these evils or to improve the 
lot of the people. They were only seeking (so men thought) 
places or the chance of jobs for themselves, and could always 
be bought by a powerful corporation. Working men must 
help themselves ; there must be new methods and a new de- 
parture. Everything, in short, was ripe for a demagogue. 
Fate was kind to the Californians in sending them a dema- 



KEARNEYISM IN CALIFORNIA 431 



gogue of a common type, noisy and confident, but with neither 
political foresight nor constructive talent. 

Late in 1877 a meeting was called in San Francisco to ex- 
press sympathy with the men on strike at Pittsburg in Penn- 
sylvania. Their riotous violence, which had alarmed the 
respectable classes all over America, had gratified the discon- 
tented railroad operatives of California, then meditating a 
strike of their own against a threatened reduction of wages. 
Some strong language used at this meeting, and exaggerated 
by the newspapers, frightened the business men into forming 
a sort of committee of public safety, with the president of the 
famous Vigilance Committee of 1856, a resolute and capable 
man. at its head. Persons enrolled by it paraded the streets 
with sticks for some days to prevent any attack on the Chinese, 
but it was soon perceived that there was no real danger, and 
the chief result of the incident was further irritation of the 
poorer classes, who perceived that the rich were afraid of them, 
and therefore disposed to deal harshly with them. Shortly 
after came an election of municipal officers and members of the 
State legislature. The contest, as is the custom in America, 
brought into life a number of clubs and other organizations, 
purporting to represent various parties or sections of a party, 
and among others a body calling itself the " Working men's 
Trade and Labour Union," the secretary of which was a certain 
Denis Kearney. 1 When the election was over, Kearney declared 
that he would keep his union going, and form a working man's 
party. He was Irish by birth, and though in business as a 
drayman, had some experience as a sailor, and held a master's 
certificate. He had borne a good character for industry and 
steadiness till some friend " put him into stocks," and the loss of 
what he hoped to gain is said to have first turned him to agita- 
tion. He had gained some faculty in speaking by practice at a 
Sunday debating club called the Lyceum of Self Culture. A 
self-cultivating lyceum sounds as harmless as a Social Science 
congress, but there are times when even mutual improvement 
societies may be dangerous. Kearney's tongue, loud and vio- 
lent, soon gathered an audience. On the west side of San Fran- 
cisco, as you cross the peninsula from the harbour towards the 
ocean, there was then a large open space, laid out for building, 
1 See note in the Appendix at the end of this volume. 



432 ILLUSTRATIONS AND REFLECTIONS part v 

but not yet built on, covered with sand, and hence called the 
Sand Lot. Here the mob had been wont to gather for meetings ; 
here Kearney formed his party. At first he had mostly vaga- 
bonds to listen, but one of the two great newspapers took him 
up. These two, the Chronicle and the Morning Call, were in 
keen rivalry, and the former, seeing in this new movement 
a chance of going ahead, filling its columns with sensational 
matter, and increasing its sale among working men, went in 
hot and strong for the Sand Lot party. One of its reporters 
has been credited with dressing up Kearney's speeches into 
something approaching literary form, for the orator was an 
imperfectly educated man, with ideas chiefly gathered from the 
daily press. The advertisement which the Chronicle gave him 
by its reports and articles, and which he repaid by advising 
working men to take it, soon made him a personage ; and his 
position was finally assured by his being, along with several 
other speakers, arrested and prosecuted on a charge of riot, 
in respect of inflammatory speeches delivered at a meeting on 
the top of Nob Hill, one of the steep heights which make San 
Francisco the most picturesque of American cities. The pros- 
ecution failed, and Kearney was a popular hero. Clerks and 
the better class of citizens now began to attend his meetings, 
though many went from mere curiosity, as they would have 
gone to a circus : the W. P. C. (Working-man's Party of Cali- 
fornia) was organized as a regular party, embracing the whole 
State of California, with Kearney for its president. The gather- 
ing on the Sand Lot to which all those " eager for new things," 
as the discontented class were of old time called, flocked every 
Sunday afternoon to cheer denunciations of corporations and 
monopolists, and to " resolute " against the rich generally, 
became a centre of San Francisco politics, and through the 
reports of some newspapers and the attacks of others, roused 
the people of the entire State. The Morning Call had now 
followed the lead of the Chronicle, trying to outbid it for the 
support of the working men. There was nothing positive, 
nothing constructive or practical, either in these tirades or in 
the programme of the party, but an open-air crowd is not 
critical, and gives the loudest cheers to the strongest lan- 
guage. Kearney was not without shrewdness and address : 
he knew how to push himself to the front, and retain the 



chap. \ KEARNEYISM IN CALIFORNIA 433 

reputation of rugged honesty : tie always dressed as a work- 
man and ran for no office, and while denouncing politicians 
as thieves and capitalists as blood-suckers, while threaten- 
ing tire and the halter it the demands of the people were 1 
not granted, he tried to avoid direct breaches of the law. 
On one occasion he held a gathering beside the mansions 
o\' the Central Pacific magnates on Nob Hill, pointed to 
them and to the bonfire which marked the place of meeting, 
and while telling the people that these men deserved to have 
their houses burned, abstained from suggesting that the torch 
should be applied then and there. Another time he bade the 
people wait a little till his party had carried their candidate 
tor tlu 1 governorship of the State: "Then we shall have the 
control of the militia and the armouries; then we can go down 
to the Pacific .Mail Company's dock and turn back the steamers 
that come in bringing the Chinese." 1 Immense enthusiasm 
was evoked by these harangues. He was crowned with flowers ; 
he was, when released from prison on one occasion, drawn in 
triumph by his followers in his own dray ; newspaper reporters 
thronged around to interview him ; prominent politicians came 
to seek favours from him on the sly. Discontent among the 
working class was the chief cause that made the new party 
grow, for grow it did : and though San Francisco was the centre 
of its strength, it had clubs in Sacramento and the other cities, 
all led by the San Francisco convention which Kearney swayed. 
But there were further causes not to be passed over. One was 
the distrust of the officials of the State and the city. The 
municipal government of San Francisco was far from pure. 
The officials enriched themselves, while the paving, the drain- 
ing, the lighting were scandalously neglected; corruption and 
political jobbery had found their way even into school man- 
agement, and liquor was sold everywhere, the publicans being 
leagued with the heads of the police to prevent the enforce- 
ment of the laws. Another was the support given to their 
countryman by the Irish, here a discontented and turbulent 
part of the population, by the lower class of German immi- 
grants, and by the longshore men, also an important element 

1 In an earlier agitation this company's yard was attacked, but the only 
person killed was a lad (one of the special constables defending it) whose gun 
burst. 

VOL. II 2 F 



434 ILLUSTRATIONS AND REFLECTIONS part v 

in this great port, and a dangerous element (as long ago in 
Athens) wherever one finds them. The activity of the Chron- 
icle counted for much, for it was ably written, went every- 
where, and continued to give a point and force to Kearney's 
harangues, which made them not less effective in print than 
even his voice had made them to the listening crowds. Some 
think that the monied classes at this juncture ought to have 
bought up the Chronicle (supposing they could have done so 
secretly), and its then editor and proprietor has been much 
maligned if he would have refused to be bought up. 1 The 
newspapers certainly played a great part in the movement; 
they turned the Working man's party into a force by repre- 
senting it to have already become one. Most important of 
all, however, was the popular hatred of the Chinese. This 
is so strong in California that any party which can become 
its exponent rides on the crest of the wave. The old par- 
ties, though both denouncing Chinese immigration in every 
convention they held, and professing to legislate against it, 
had failed to check it by State laws, and had not yet obtained 
Federal laws prohibiting it. They had therefore lost the con- 
fidence of the masses on this point, while the Sand Lot party, 
whose leaders had got into trouble for the ferocity of their 
attacks on the Chinese, gained that confidence, and became 
the "anti-Mongolian" party par excellence. Like Cato with 
his Delenda est Carthago, Kearney ended every speech with 
the words, " And whatever happens, the Chinese must go." 

Meanwhile, where were the old parties, and what was their 
attitude to this new one ? It is so hard in America to estab- 
lish a new movement outside the regular party lines, that when 
such a movement is found powerful, we may expect to find 
that there exist special causes weakening these lines. Such 
forces existed in California. She lies so far from the Atlantic 
and Mississippi States, and has been so much occupied with 

1 This editor became subsequently famous over America by his " difficulties " 
with a leading Baptist minister of San Francisco. He had shot this minister 
in the street from behind the blind of a carriage, and thereby made him so 
popular that the W. P. C. carried him for their candidate for the mayoralty. 
The blood feud, however, was not settled by this unintended service, for the 
clergyman's son went soon after to the Chronicle office and slew the editor. 
The young man was tried, and, of course, acquitted. He had only done what 
the customary law of primitive peoples requires. It survives in Albania, and 
is scarcely extinct in Corsica. 



ohaf. sc KEARNEYISM IN CALIFORNIA 435 

her own concerns — even fche War of Secession did not interest 
her as it did the country oast of the Rocky Mountains — that 
the two great national parties have had a comparatively weak 
hold on the people. The Chinese question and the railroad 
question dwarfed the regular party issues. Neither party had 
shown itself able to deal with the former — both parties were 
suspected of having been tampered with on the latter. Both 
had incurred the discredit which follows every party in hard 
times, when the public are poor, and see that their taxes have 
been ill-spent. The Sand Lot party drew its support chiefly 
from the Democrats, who here, as in the East, have the larger 
share of the rabble : hence its rise was not unwelcome to the 
Republicans, because it promised to divide and weaken their 
old opponents ; while the Democrats, hoping ultimately to cap- 
ture it. gave a feeble resistance. Thus it grew the faster, and 
soon began to run a ticket of its own at city and State elections. 
It carried most of the city offices, and when the question was 
submitted to the people whether a new Constitution should be 
framed for California, it threw its vote in favour of having one, 
and prevailed. 

" The hoodlums " * and other ragamuffins who had formed 
the audience at the first Sand Lot meetings could not have 
effected this. But the W. P. C. now got a heavy vote in San 
Francisco from the better sort of working men, clerks, and 
small shopkeepers. In the rural districts they had still more 
powerful allies. The so-called Granger movement had spread 
from the upper Mississippi States into California, and enlisted 
the farmers in a campaign against the railroads and other 
" monopolists " and corporations. To compel a reduction of 
charges for goods and passengers, to prevent the railroad from 
combining with the Panama Steamship Company, to reduce 
public expenditure, to shift more taxation on to the shoulders 
of the rich, and generally to "cinch" capital — these were the 
aims of the Granger party ; nor will any one who knows Cali- 
fornia think them wholly unreasonable. The only way to 
effect them was by a new Constitution, not only because some 
could not have been attained under the then existing Consti- 

1 The terra " Imodiums " denotes those who are called in Australia, "lar- 
rikins,'* and in Liverpool, "corner-boys." loafing youths of mischievous 

proclivities. 



436 ILLUSTRATIONS AND REFLECTIONS part v 

tution (passed in 1849 and amended in several points subse- 
quently), but also because the people have more direct control 
over legislation through a convention making a Constitution 
than they have over the action of a legislature. The delegates 
to a convention go straight from the election to their work, 
have not time to forget, or to devise means of evading, their 
pledges, are less liable to be "got at" by capitalists. They 
constitute only one house, whereas the legislature has two. 
There is no governor to stand in the way with his veto. The 
rarity and importance of the occasion fixes public attention. 
Thus a new Constitution became the object of the popular cry, 
and a heavy vote in favour of having it was cast by the country 
farmers as well as by decent working-people in the towns, just 
because it promised a new departure and seemed to get behind 
the old parties. As often happens, the "good citizens," who 
ought to have seen the danger of framing a new Constitution 
at a time of such excitement, were apathetic and unorganized. 
Next came, in the summer of 1878, the choice of delegates 
to the convention which was to frame the new Constitution. 
The Working man's party carried many seats in the conven- 
tion, but its nominees were mostly ignorant men, without 
experience or constructive ideas. 1 Among the lawyers, who 
secured a large representation, there were some closely bound 
by business ties to the great corporations and therefore dis- 
posed to protect the interests of these corporations, as well as 
those of the legal profession. In justice to many of them it 
must be added that their respect for the principles of the com- 
mon law and for sound constitutional doctrine made them do 
their best to restrain the wild folly of their colleagues. How- 
ever, the working men's delegates, together with the more 
numerous and less corruptible delegates of the farmers, got 
their way in many things and produced that surprising instru- 
ment by which California is now governed. 

1 Anecdotes were still current three years afterwards of the ignorance of 
some of the delegates. When the clause prohibiting any "law impairing the 
obligation of contracts" (taken from the Federal Constitution) was under 
discussion, a San Francisco delegate objected to it. An eminent lawyer, leader 
of the Californian bar, who recognized in the objector a little upholsterer who 
used to do jobs about his house, asked why. The upholsterer replied, that 
he disapproved altogether of contracts, because he thought work should be 
done by hiring workmen for the day. 



KEARNEYISM IN CALIFORNIA 437 



III. I'm: New Constitution 

An able Californian writergives the following account of the 
Constitution of 1879 : — 

"The now Constitution adopted in May, 1879, made radical changes in 
almost every department of the Government. It completely changed the 
judicial system, and thereby rendered necessary an alteration of almost 
all the laws relating to civil and criminal procedure. It revolutionized 
the working, and to a great extent the scope of the legislative department, 
lopping off special and local legislation, and obliging the objects hereto- 
fore obtained by such legislation to be covered by general law. As a part 
of this revolution, it required a new plan of county, township, and city 
organization, with the idea partly of forcing the same general laws upon 
all local governments, and partly of investing such local governments with 
power to legislate for themselves. But the main underlying spirit of the 
new instrument was an attack upon capital under the specious name of 
opposition to monopolies. To use an expressive Californian phrase, capi- 
tal, and especially accumulated capital, wherever it was found, was to be 
' cinched.' 1 With this object in view, cheap labour was to be driven out 
of the country, and corporations so restricted and hampered in their 
operations as to be unable to make large profits. The cry was that there 
were unjust discriminations on the part of the railroads, and extortionate 
rates on the part of water and gas companies ; that vicious practices were 
indulged in by mining corporations ; that fair day's wages for fair day's 
labour could not be obtained ; that rich men rolled in luxury, and that 
poor men were cramped with want. It may be admitted that there were 
some grounds for these complaints. But it does not follow that capital 
was any more tyrannical or corporations are more unconscionable than 
by their very nature they are compelled to be." 2 

Some of the above points, and particularly the changes in 
local government and in the judicial system, lie rather outside 
the scope of the present narrative, and I therefore confine my- 
self to inquiring how far the objects aimed at by the Sand Lot 
party were attained through the Constitution whose enactment 
it had secured. They and the Grangers, or farmers' party, 
which made common cause with them, sought to deal with four 
questions in which lay the grievances chiefly complained of by 
discontented Californians. 

These were — 

The general corruption of politicians, and bad conduct of 
State, county, and city government. 

1 " Cinching " is drawing tight the girths of a horse. 

- Mr. Theodore H. Hittell in the Berkeley Quarterly for July, 1880. 



438 ILLUSTRATIONS AND REFLECTIONS 



Taxation, alleged to press too heavily on the poorer classes. 
The tyranny of corporations, especially railroads. 
The Chinese. 

Let us see what remedies the Constitution applied to each of 
these. The cry of the Sand Lot party had been : "None but 
honest men for the offices." To find the honest men, and, 
having found them, to put them in office and keep them there, 
is the great problem of American politics. The contributions 
made to its solution by the Convention of 1879 were neither 
novel nor promising. I have noted at the end of this chapter 
a few of some of its more important provisions, and some sec- 
tions of the Constitution itself will be found printed in full at 
the end of the preceding volume. Here I will merely sum up 
its main results under the four heads above-mentioned. 1 

1. It restricts and limits in every possible way the powers 

of the State legislature, leaving it little authority ex- 
cept to carry out by statutes the provisions of the Con- 
stitution. It makes "lobbying," i.e. the attempt to 
corrupt a legislator, and the corrupt action of a legis- 
lator, felony. 

2. It forbids the State legislature or local authorities to 

incur debts beyond a certain limit, taxes uncultivated 
land equally with cultivated, makes sums due on 
mortgage taxable in the district where the mortgaged 
property lies, authorizes an income tax, and directs a 
highly inquisitorial scrutiny of everybody's property 
for the purposes of taxation. 

3. It forbids the "watering of stock," declares that the 

State has power to prevent corporations from conduct- 
ing their business so as to " infringe the general well- 
being of the State " ; directs the charges of telegraph 
and gas companies, and of water-supplying bodies, to 
be regulated and limited by law ; institutes a railroad 
commission with power to fix the transportation rates 
on all railroads and examine the books and accounts 
of all transportation companies. 

1 As to the nature of State constitutions in general, and the restrictions they 
now impose on legislatures, see Chapters XXXVII. sqq. in Vol. I. 



KEARNEYISM IN CALIFORNIA 489 



I. It forbids all corporations to employ any Chinese, debars 
them from the suffrage (thereby attempting bo trans- 
gress the fifteenth amendment bo the Federal Constitu- 
tion, forbids their employment on any public works, 
annuls all contracts lor "coolie labour," directs the 
legislature to provide for the punishment of any com- 
pany which shall import Chinese, to impose conditions 
on the residence of Chinese, and to cause their re- 
moval if they fail to observe these conditions. 

It also declares that eight hours shall constitute a legal day's 
work on all public works. 1 

When the Constitution came to be submitted to the vote of 
the people, in May, 1879, it was vehemently opposed by the 
monied men, who of course influence, in respect to their wealth, 
a far larger number of votes than they themselves cast. Several 
of the conservative delegates had, I was told, abstained from 
putting forth their full efforts to have the worst proposals 
rejected by the convention in the belief that when the people 
came to consider them, they would ensure the rejection of the 
whole instrument. Some of its provisions were alleged to be 
opposed to the Constitution of the United States, and therefore 
null. Others were denounced as ruinous to commerce and 
industry, calculated to drive capital out of the country. The 
struggle was severe, but the Granger party commanded so many 
rural votes, and the Sand Lot party so many in San Francisco 
(whose population was then nearly a third of that of the en- 
tire State"), that the Constitution was carried, though by a 
small majority, only 11,000, out of a total of 145,000 citizens 
voting. Of course it had to be enacted as a whole, amendment 
being impossible where a vote of the people is taken. 

The next thing was to choose a legislature to carry out the 
Constitution. Had the same influences prevailed in this election 
as prevailed in that of the Constitutional Convention, the results 
might have been serious. But, fortunately, there was a slight 
reaction, now that the first and main step seemed to have been 
taken. The Republicans, Democrats, and Sand Lot party all 
ran "tickets," and owing to this division of the working men's 
and the Granger vote between Kearneyite candidates and the 
1 For some further remarks on the new Constitution see note in Appendix. 



440 ILLUSTRATIONS AND . REFLECTIONS part v 

Democrats, the Republicans secured a majority, though a small 
one. Now the Republicans are in California, as they would 
themselves say, the moderate and conservative party, or as their 
opponents said, the party of the rich and the monopolists. 
Their predominance made the legislature of 1880 a body more 
cautious than might have been expected. Professing hearty 
loyalty to the new Constitution, the majority showed this 
k^alty by keeping well within the letter of that instrument, 
while the working men and farmer members were disposed to 
follow out by bold legislation what they called its spirit. Thus 
the friends and the enemies of the Constitution changed places. 
Those who had opposed it in the Convention posed as its ad- 
mirers and defenders ; while those who had clamoured for and 
carried it now began to wish that they had made its directions 
more imperative. The influence and the money of the railroad 
and the other great corporations were of course brought into 
play, despite the terrors of a prosecution for felony, and became 
an additional "conservative force" of great moment. 

Thus a series of statutes was passed which gave effect to the 
provisions of the Constitution in a form perhaps as little harm- 
ful as could be contrived, and certainly less harmful than had 
been feared when the Constitution was put to the vote. Many 
bad bills, particularly those aimed at the Chinese, were de- 
feated, and one may say generally that the expectations of the 
Sand Lot men were grievously disappointed. 

While all this was passing, Kearney had more and more 
declined in fame and power. He did not sit either in the Con- 
stitutional Convention or in the legislature of 1880. ' The mob 
had tired of his harangues, especially as little seemed to come 
of them, and as the candidates of the W. P. C. had behaved 
no better in office than those of the old parties. He had 
quarrelled with the Chronicle. He was, moreover, unfitted 
by knowledge or training to argue the legal, economical, and 
political questions involved in the new Constitution, so that the 
prominence of these questions threw him into the background. 
An anti-Chinese agitation, in which the unemployed marched 
about San Francisco, calling on employers to discharge all 
Chinese workmen, caused some alarm in the winter of 1879-80, 
but Kearney was absent at the time, and when he returned 
his party was wavering. Even his prosecution and imprison- 



chap, re REARNEYISM IN CALIFORNIA HI 

ment on a rather trivial charge gave only a brief revival bo 
his popularity. The W. 1*. C. was defeated in a city election 
in March, L880, by a combination of the better class of Demo- 
crats with tiie Republicans, and soon after expired. 

When 1 was in San Francisco in the fall of 1881, people 
talked of Kearney as a spent rocket. Some did not know 
whether he was in the city. Otherssaid that the capitalists had 
rendered him harmless by the gift of a new dray and team. 
Not long afterwards he went East, and mounted the stump on 
behalf of the Labour party in New York. He proved, how- 
ever, scarcely equal to his fame, for mob oratory is a flower 
which does not always bear transplantation. Since 1880 he 
has from time to time taken some part, but never a conspic- 
uous part, in Californian politics, and was, indeed, in 1883, no 
longer deemed a force to be regarded. And now, as the 
Icelandic sagas say, he is out of the story. 

After the session of 1880, Californian politics resumed their 
old features. Election frauds are said to have become less 
frequent since glass ballot boxes were adopted, whereby the 
practice of stuffing a box with papers before the voters ar- 
rive in the morning has been checked. But the game between 
the two old parties goes on as before. What remained of the 
3a nd Lot group was reabsorbed into the Democratic party, out 
of which it had mainly come, and to which it had strong affin- 
ities. The city government of San Francisco is much what it 
was before the agitation, — a few years ago, under Boss Buck- 
ley, it Avas even worse, — nor does the legislature seem to be 
any purer or wiser. When the railroad commission had to be 
elected, the railroad magnates managed so to influence the 
election, although it was made directly by the people, that two 
of the three commissioners chosen were, or soon afterwards 
came, under their influence, while the third was a mere de- 
claimer. None of them possessed the practical knowledge of 
railway business needed to enable them to deal, in the manner 
contemplated by the Constitution, with the oppressions alleged 
to be practised by the railroads ; and the complaints of those 
oppressions seemed in 1883 to be as common as formerly. I 
enquired in that year why the railroad magnates had not been 
content to rely on certain provisions of the Federal Constitu- 
tion against the control sought to be exerted over their under- 



442 ILLUSTRATIONS AND REFLECTIONS 



taking. The answer was that they had considered this course, 
but had concluded that it was cheaper to capture a majority 
of the Commission. The passing of the Inter-State Commerce 
Act by Congress was expected to bring about a change in the 
situation, but that act has disappointed its promoters ; and the 
tyranny of the Southern Pacific Railroad (as it is now called, 
though it controls the Central Pacific line also) remains severe. 
In July 1894, when the dispute between the Pullman Com- 
pany and their employes in Illinois gave rise to a railway 
strike over large parts of the West, the mobs which attacked 
the depots and wrecked the trains in California seem to have 
been regarded by the mass of the people with a sympathy 
which can be attributed to nothing but the general hostility 
felt to the railroad company which has so long lain like an 
incubus on the State. 

Some of the legislation framed under the Constitution of 1879 
has already been pronounced by the Supreme Court of the State 
invalid, as opposed to that instrument itself or to the Federal 
Constitution, and more of it may share the same fate. The 
condition of the people at large has not substantially changed, 
though the restrictions imposed on the legislature (as regards 
special legislation) and on local authorities (as regards bor- 
rowing and the undertaking of costly public works) have 
proved beneficial. The net result of the whole agitation was 
to give the monied classes in California a fright ; to win for 
the State a bad name throughout America, and, by checking 
for a time the influx of capital, to retard her growth just when 
prosperity was reviving over the rest of the country ; to worry 
without seriously crippling, the great corporations, and to leave 
the working classes and farmers where they were. No great 
harm has been done, and the Constitution, pruned and trimmed 
by the courts, is now (1893) reported to be working fairly 
well. Nevertheless, a mischievous example has been set, and 
an instrument remains in force which may some day be made 
the basis of further attacks upon the capitalist class. 

IV. Observations on the Movement 

I would leave the reader to draw a moral for himself, were 
he not likely to err, as I did myself, till corrected by my 



ohap. xo KKAKNKVISM IN CALIFORNIA 44;} 

California!! friends, by thinking the whole movement more 

serious than it really was. 

It rose with surprising ease and swiftness. The conditions 
were no doubt exceptionally favourable. No other population in 
America furnished so good a field for demagogy. But the dema- 
gogue himself was not formidable. He did not make the move- 
ment, but merely rode for a moment on the crest of the wave. 
Europeans may say that a stronger man, a man with know- 
ledge, education, and a fierce tenacity of fibre, might have 
built up a more permanent power, and used it with more 
destructive effect. But Californians say that a strong man 
would not have been suffered to do what Kearney did with 
impunity. Kearney throve — so they allege — because the 
solid classes despised him, and felt that the best thing was to 
let him talk himself out and reveal his own hollowness. 

The movement fell as quickly as it rose. This was partly 
due, as has just been said, to the incompetence of the leader, 
who had really nothing to propose and did not know how to 
use the force that seemed to have come to his hands. Some- 
thing, however, must be set down to the credit of the American 
party system. The existing parties are so strong, and are 
spread over so wide an area, that it is very difficult to create 
a new party. Resting on a complex local organization, and 
supported by the central organization for the purposes of Fed- 
eral politics, they can survive a temporary eclipse in a partic- 
ular State, while a new party cannot count itself permanent 
till it has established some such organization, central as well 
as local. This may operate badly in keeping old parties alive, 
when they deserve to die. But it operates well in checking 
the growth or abridging the life of mischievous local factions. 
That fund of good sense, moreover, which lies at the bottom 
of nearly every native American mind, soon produces a reaction 
against extreme measures. When the native voters, especially 
those who owned even a little property, had relieved their 
minds by voting for the new Constitution, they felt they had 
gone far enough in the direction of change, and at the election 
of a legislature voted for moderate men. Support from this 
class having been withdrawn, the Sand Lot rabble ceased to be 
dangerous ; and although threats of violence were abundant, 
and sometimes bloodthirsty, there was little sedition or disorder. 



444 ILLUSTRATIONS AND REFLECTIONS part v 

Every stump orator in the West says a great deal more than 
he means, and is promptly discounted by his hearers. The 
populace of San Francisco has now and again menaced the 
Chinese quarter and the docks of the Pacific Mail Steamship 
Company, which, until recent legislation by Congress checked 
them, brought the Chinese over. Once the Chinese armed in 
defence of Chinatown, and twice during these agitations a com- 
mittee of public safety was formed to protect the banks and 
keep order in the streets. But many people doubt whether 
order was really endangered. The few attacks made on 
Chinese stores were done by small bands of hoodlums, who 
disappeared at the sight of the police. The police and militia 
seem to have behaved well all through. Moreover, any serious 
riot would in San Francisco be quelled speedily and severely 
by the respectable classes, who would supersede the municipal 
authority if it seemed to fear, or to be secretly leagued with, 
the authors of sedition. Even the meetings of the various 
political parties were scarcely ever disturbed or " bull-dozed " 
by their opponents. When the Kearneyites once or twice 
molested Democratic meetings, they were so promptly re- 
pelled, that they desisted for the future. 

There was very little of conscious or constructive commu- 
nism or socialism in the movement. Kearney told the work- 
ing men that the rich had thriven at their expense, and talked 
of hanging thieves in office, and burning the houses of capital- 
ists. But neither he nor any other demagogue assailed the 
institution of property. The farmers, whose vote carried the 
new Constitution, owned their farms, and would have recoiled 
from suggestions of agrarian socialism. And in fact the new 
Constitution, although it contains provisions hostile to capital, 
" is anything but agrarian or communistic, for it entrenches 
vested rights, especially in land, more thoroughly than before. 
... It is anything but a working man's Constitution; it 
levies a poll tax without exemption ; disfranchises a consider- 
able portion of the floating labour vote ; prevents the opening 
of public works in emergencies, and in various wa} 7 s which 
working men, even in their present stage of enlightenment, 
may easily see, sacrifices the interests of the labouring classes, 
as well as the capitalists, to what the landowners regard as 



ohap. x. KEARNEYISM IN CALIFORNIA 445 

their interests." ' A solitary Parisian communist who was 
elected to the convention " exercised no influence, and was 
expelled from the party tor refusing to support the new Con- 
stitution." There were some rich men, and lawyers connected 
with the great corporations, among the candidates and sup- 
porters of the Sand Lot party. Others of the same class who 
tried seeretly to use it had probably their selfish ends to serve, 
but would have been less willing to increase its strength had 
they regarded it as an attack on property in general. The fact 
is that theoretical communism has no hold upon native Ameri- 
cans, while its practical application does not commend itself to 
farmers who own their land and workmen who own their houses. 
The belief which prevailed in the Eastern States that the move- 
ment had a communistic character was therefore a mistaken one. 

More mischief would have been done but for the existence 
of the Federal Constitution. It imposed a certain check on 
the Convention, who felt the absurdity of trying to legislate 
right in the teeth of an overruling instrument. It has been 
the means of upsetting some of the clauses of the Constitution 
of 1879, and some of the statutes passed by the legislature 
under them, and has discouraged attempts to pass others. 

On the whole, not much evil has been wrought, at least not 
much compared with what was feared in the State itself, and 
believed in the East to have resulted. The better sort of Cali- 
fornians two years after were no longer alarmed, but seemed 
half ashamed and half amused when they recollected the scenes 
I have described. They felt somewhat as a man feels when he 
awakes unrefreshed after a night of bad dreams. He fears at 
first that his parched tongue and throbbing head may mean 
that he has caught a fever. But when he has breakfasted and 
is again immersed in work, these sensations and apprehensions 
disappear together. After all, say the lawyers and bankers of 
San Francisco, we are going on as before, property will take 
care of itself in this country, things are not really w r orse so far 
as our business is concerned. 

Xeither are things better. It is natural to suppose that a 
shock, however short, must make a difference to a community, 
and affect its future fortunes. If this shock has so affected 

1 Mr. H. George, in Popular Science Monthly for August, 1880. 



446 ILLUSTRATIONS AND REFLECTIONS part v 

California, the results are not yet apparent. Though the new 
Constitution has not altered the economic condition of the 
workmen and farmers, it might have been thought that the 
crisis, which suddenly startled this busy and (in San Francisco) 
luxurious society, would rouse good citizens to a more active 
interest in politics, make them see the necessity of getting 
honester men into the offices and the legislature, and, indeed, of 
purifying public life altogether. But these consequences do 
not seem to have followed. In the stress and hurry of Califor- 
nian life, impressions pass swiftly away. Good citizens are dis- 
posed to stand aside ; and among the richer many look forward 
to a time when, having made their fortunes, they will go East 
to spend them. San Francisco in particular continues to be 
deplorably misgoverned, and passes from the tyranny of one 
Ring to that of another, with no change save in the persons 
of those who prey upon her. It may be that another shock 
is in store for the Golden State, more violent than the last, 
although equally within legal limits, for there seems no 
danger, in spite of such outbreaks as marked the great 
railway strikes of 1894, of mere mob law and anarchy. The 
forces at the disposal of order are always the stronger; 
nor are the Californians, with all their restlessness, specially 
inclined to communistic experiments. It may on the other 
hand be that as society settles down from the feverish insta- 
bility of these early days, as the mass of the people acquire 
a more enlightened view of their true interests, as those moral 
influences which count for so much in America assert their 
dominion more widely, the present evils will slowly pass away. 
The president of the Vigilance Committee of 1856 told me 
that all he had seen happen in San Francisco, since the days 
when it was a tiny Spanish mission, made him confident that 
everything would come out straight. Probably he is right. 
American experience shows that the optimists generally are. 

Epilogue to this and the Two Last Preceding 
Chapters. 

The illustrations given in these three chapters of perversions 
of popular government carry their moral with them, and only 
a few parting comments are needed. 



KEARNEYISM IN CALIFORNIA 447 



Neither of the two great political parties has in respect of 
the events narrated a better record than its rival. If the 
Tammany King sheds little lustre upon the Democrats of New 
York, the (J as King of Philadelphia is no more creditable to 
the Republicans of Pennsylvania. 

Both in New York and in Philadelphia there was nothing 
truly political in the character and career of the Rings. Tam- 
many has been for thirty years a selfish combination of men 
who have had purely personal ends to serve; and Tweed in 
particular was a mere vulgar robber. So the Gas Ring strove 
and throve, and its successors have striven and thriven, solely 
to secure patronage and gain to their respective members. 
True indeed it is that neither in Xew York nor in Philadelphia 
could the Rings have won their way to power without the 
connivance of chiefs among the national parties, who needed 
the help of the vote the Rings controlled ; true also that that 
vote would never have become so large had not many citizens 
looked on the Rings as the " regular " organizations, and heirs 
of the local party traditions. But neither Ring had ever any 
distinctive principles or proposals : neither ever appealed to 
the people on behalf of a doctrine or a scheme calculated 
to benefit the masses. Lucre, with office as a means to lucre, 
was their only aim, the party for the sake of the party their 
only watchword. 

AYhat, then, are the salient features of these two cases, and 
what the lessons they enforce ? They are these. The power 
of an organization in a multitude ; the facility with which the 
administrative machinery of government may be made the 
instrument of private gain ; the disposition of the average 
respectable citizen to submit to bad government rather than 
take the trouble of overthrowing it. These are not wholly 
new phenomena, but they are hardly such as would have been 
looked for in the United States ; and not one of them was 
feared when Tocqueville wrote. 

Very different, and far less discreditable to those concerned, 
is the case of California. The movement which gave birth to 
the new Constitution was a legitimate political movement. It 
was crude in its aims, and tainted with demagogism in its 
methods. But it was evoked by real evils ; and it sought, 
however ignorantly; the public good. Kearney had no sordid 



448 ILLUSTRATIONS AND REFLECTIONS part v 

personal ends to serve, and gained for himself nothing more 
solid than notoriety. His agitation was essentially the same 
as that which has appeared in the Western States under the 
forms of Grangerism, the Farmers' Alliance, and Populism, 
an effort to apply political remedies to evils, real or supposed, 
which are mainly economic rather than political, and only a 
part of which legislation can remove. Similar movements 
must from time to time be expected ; all that can be hoped is 
to keep them within constitutional lines, and prevent them 
from damaging the credit and retarding the prosperity of the 
States they affect. Nothing is more natural than that those 
who suffer from hard times and see that a few men grow rich 
while the vast majority remain poor should confound the 
mischiefs which arise from State or city maladministration 
and from the undue power which the laws have permitted 
corporations to acquire with other hardships due to the consti- 
tution of. human nature and the conditions of the world we 
live in, and should, possessing the whole power of the State, 
strike out wildly at all three at once. In a country so little 
restrained by ancient traditions or deference to the educated 
class as is Western America, a country where the aptitude for 
politics is so much in advance of economic wisdom, it is less 
surprising that these storms should sometimes darken the sky 
than that they should uproot so little in their course. 



CHAPTER XCI 

THE HOME OF THE NATION 

There are three points wherein the territories which consti- 
tute the United States present phenomena new in the annals 
of the world. They contain a huge people whose blood is 
becoming mixed in an unprecedented degree by the concurrent 
immigration of numerous European races. We find in them, 
beside the predominant white nation, seven millions of men 
belonging to a dark race, thousands of years behind in its intel 
tactual development, but legally equal in political and civil 
rights. And thirdly, they furnish an instance to which no paral- 
lel can be found of a vast area, including regions very dissimilar 
in their natural features, occupied by a population nearly the 
whole of which speaks the same tongue, and all of which lives 
under the same institutions. Of these phenomena the first has 
been already frequently referred to, while the second is dealt 
with in a later chapter. The third suggests to us thoughts 
and questions which cannot pass unnoticed. No one can travel 
in the United States without asking himself whether this im- 
mense territory will remain united or be split up into a number 
of independent communities ; whether, even if it remain united, 
diverse types of life and character will spring up within it; 
whether and how far climatic and industrial conditions will 
affect those types, carrying them farther from the prototypes 
of Europe. These questions, as well as other questions regard- 
ing the future local distribution of wealth and population, open 
fields of inquiry and speculation too wide to be here explored. 
Yet some pages may well be given to a rapid survey of the geo- 
graphical conditions of the United States, and of the influence 
those conditions have exerted and may, so far as can be fore- 
seen, continue to exert on the growth of the nation, its political 
and economical development. Beginning with a few observa- 

YOL. II 449 2 G 



450 ILLUSTRATIONS AND REFLECTIONS part v 

tions first on the orography of the country and then upon its 
meteorology, we may consider how mountain ranges and cli- 
mate have hitherto affected the movement of colonization and 
the main stream of political history. The chief natural 
sources of wealth may next be mentioned, and their possible 
effect indicated upon the development of population in particu- 
lar areas, as well as upon the preservation of the permanent 
unity of the Republic. 

One preliminary remark must not be omitted. The relation 
of geographical conditions to national growth changes, and with 
the upward progress of humanity the ways in which Nature 
moulds the fortunes of man are always varying. Man must 
in every stage be for many purposes dependent upon the cir- 
cumstances of his physical environment. Yet the character 
of that dependence changes with his advance in civilization. 
At first he is helpless, and, therefore, passive. With what 
Nature gives in the way of food, clothing, and lodging he 
must be content. She is strong, he is weak : so she dictates 
his whole mode of life. Presently, always by slow degrees, 
but most quickly in those countries where she neither gives 
lavishly nor yet presses on him with a discouraging severity, 
he begins to learn how to make her obey him, drawing from her 
stores materials which his skill handles in such wise as to make 
him more and more independent of her. He defies the rigours 
of climate ; he overcomes the obstacles which mountains, rivers, 
and forests place in the way of communications; he discovers 
the secrets of the physical forces and makes them his servants 
in the work of production. But the very multiplication of the 
means at his disposal for profiting by what Nature supplies 
brings him into ever closer and more complex relations with 
her. The variety of her resources, differing in different re- 
gions, prescribes the kind of industry for which each spot is 
fitted ; and the competition of nations, growing always keener, 
forces each to maintain itself in the struggle by using to the 
utmost every facility for production or for the transportation 
of products. Thus certain physical conditions, whether of soil 
or of climate, of accessibility or inaccessibility, or perhaps of 
such available natural forces as water-power, conditions of 
supreme importance in the earlier stages of man's progress, are 
now of less relative moment, while others, formerly of small 



chap, sci THE SOME OF THE NATION 451 

account, have received their full significance by our swiftly 
advancing knowledge of the secrets of Nature and mastery of 
her forces. It is this which makes the examination of the 
influence of physical environment on the progress of nations 
so intricate a matter; for while the environment, remains, as a 
whole, constant, its several parts vary in their importance from 
one age to another. 1 A certain severity of climate, for instance, 
which retarded the progress of savage man, has been found 
helpful to semi-civilized man, in stimulating him to exertion, 
and in maintaining a racial vigour greater than that of the 
inhabitants of those hotter regions where civilization first 
arose. And thus in considering how man's lot and fate in 
the Western Continent have been affected by the circum- 
stances of that continent, we must have regard not only to 
what he found on his arrival there, but to the resources which 
have been subsequently disclosed. Nor can this latter head be 
exhausted, because it is impossible to conjecture what still 
latent forces or capacities may be revealed in the onward march 
of science, and how such a revelation may affect the value of 
the resources now r known to exist or hereafter to be explored. 

It is only on a very few salient points of this large and 
complex subject that I shall touch in sketching the outlines 
of North American geography and noting some of the effects 
on the growth of the nation attributable to them. 

The territory of the United States extends nearly 3000 miles 
east and west from the Bay of Fundy to the mouth of the Colum- 
bia River, and 1400 miles north and south from the Lake of the 
Woods to the Gulf of Mexico at Galveston. Compared with 
Europe, the physical structure of this area of 3,025,000 square 
miles 2 (excluding Alaska) is not only larger in scale, but far 

1 Navigable rivers, for instance, were at one time the main channels of 
commerce, so that towns were founded and prospered in respect of the advan- 
tages they gave. The extension of railways diminished their importance, 
and many great cities now owe their growth to their having become centres 
where trunk lines meet. Should a means be discovered of cheaply obtaining 
and transmitting electric force drawn from flowing water, rivers may regain 
their commercial value. 

2 The area of China, the country with which the United States is most fit 
to be compared, since India and the Russian Empire are inhabited by many di- 
verse races, speaking wholly diverse tongues, is estimated at 1,336,000 square 
miles; and the population, the estimates of which range from 280,000,000 to 
£"0,000,000, may possibly be, in a.d. 2000, equalled by that of the United States. 



452 ILLUSTRATIONS AND REFLECTIONS fart v 

simpler. Instead of the numerous peninsulas and islands of 
Europe, with, the bold and lofty chains dividing its peoples from 
one another, we find no isles (except Long Island) of any size 
on the two coasts of the United States, only one large peninsula 
(that of Florida), and only two mountain systems. Not only the 
lakes and rivers, but the plains also, and the mountain ranges, 
are of enormous dimensions. The coast presents a smooth out- 
line. No great inlets, such as the Mediterranean and the Baltic, 
pierce the land and cut off one district from another, furnishing 
natural boundaries behind which distinct nations may grow up. 
This vast area may be divided into four regions — two of 
level country, two, speaking roughly, of mountain. Beginning 
from the Atlantic, we find a strip which on the coast is nearly 
level, and then rises gradually westwards into an undulating 
country. It varies in breadth from thirty or forty miles in the 
north to two hundred and fifty in the south, and has been called 
by geographers the Atlantic Plain and Slope. Behind this strip 
comes a range, or rather a mass of generally parallel ranges, 
of mountains. These are the Alleghanies, or so-called " Appa- 
lachian system," in breadth from one hundred to two hundred 
miles, and with an average elevation of from two to four thou- 
sand feet, some few summits reaching six thousand. Beyond 
them, still further to the west, lies the vast basin of the 
Mississippi and its tributaries, 1100 miles wide and 1200 miles 
long. Its central part is an almost unbroken plain for hun- 
dreds of miles on each side the river, but this plain rises 
slowly westward in rolling undulations into a sort of plateau, 
which, at the foot of the Eocky Mountains, has attained the 
height of 5000 feet above the sea. The fourth region consists 
of the thousand miles that lie between the Mississippi basin and 
the Pacific. It includes three not entirely disconnected moun- 
tain ranges, the Eockies, the Sierra Nevada (continued north- 
wards in the Cascade Eange), and the much lower and narrower 
Coast Eange, which runs along the shore of the ocean. This 
region is generally mountainous, though within it there are 
some extensive plateaux and some wide valleys. Most of it 
is from 4000 to 8000 feet above the sea, with many summits 
exceeding 14,000, though none reaches 15,000. A considerable 
part of it, including the desert of Nevada, does not drain into 
the ocean, but sees its feeble streams received by lakes or 
swallowed up in the ground. 



chap, xci THE SOME OF THE NATION 468 

B< tor* 1 we consider how these natural divisions have Lnflu- 
enoed, and must continue to influence, American history, it 
is well to observe how materially they have affected the 
climate of the continent, which is itself a factor of prime 
historical importance. Two points deserve special notice. One 
is the great extent of temperate area which the continent 
presents. As North America is crossed by no mountain chains 
running east and west, corresponding to the Alps and Pyrenees 
in Europe, or to the Caucasus, Himalaya and Altai in Asia, 
the cold winds of the north sweep down unchecked over the 
vast Mississippi plain, and give its central and southern parts, 
down to the Gulf of Mexico, winters cooler than the latitude 
seems to promise, or than one finds in the same latitudes in 
Europe. Nor ought the influence of the neighbouring seas to 
pass unregarded. Europe has, south of the narrow Mediter- 
ranean, a vast reservoir of heat in the Sahara : North America 
has the wide stretch of the Gulf of Mexico and the Caribbean 
Sea, with no region both hot and arid beyond. Thus Tennessee 
and Arkansas, in the latitude of Andalusia and Damascus have 
a winter like that of Edinburgh twenty degrees further to the 
north ; and while the summer of Minnesota, in latitude 45°, is 
as hot as that of Bordeaux or Venice in the same latitude, 
the winter is far more severe. Only the low lands along the 
Atlantic coast as far north as Cape Hatteras have a high winter 
as well as summer temperature, for they are warmed by the 
hot water of the Gulf Stream, just as the extreme north-eastern 
coast is chilled by the Polar current which washes it. The 
hilly country behind these southern Atlantic lowlands — the 
western parts of the two Carolinas, northern Georgia and 
Alabama — belongs to the Appalachian system, and is high 
enough to have cool and in parts even severe winters. 

The other point relates to the amount of moisture. The first 
two of our four regions enjoy an ample rainfall. So do the 
eastern and the central parts of the Mississippi basin. When, 
however, we reach the centre of the continent, some four hun- 
dred miles west of the Mississippi, the air grows dry, and the 
scanty showers are not sufficient for the needs of agriculture. 
It is only by the help of irrigation that crops can be raised all 
along the east foot of the Kocky Mountains and in the valleys 
of the fourth region, until we cross the Sierra Nevada and 



454 ILLUSTRATIONS AND REFLECTIONS part v 

come within two hundred miles of the Pacific. Through great 
part of this Rocky Mountain region, therefore, stock rearing, or 
"ranching," as it is called, takes the place of tillage, and in 
many districts there is not enough moisture even to support 
grass. Between the Rocky Mountains and the Sierra Nevada 
there lie vast deserts, the largest that which stretches westward 
from the Great Salt Lake, 1 a desert of clay and stones rather 
than of sand, bearing only alkaline plants with low, prickly 
shrubs, and, apparently, destined to remain, save in some few 
spots where brooks descend from the mountains, 2 eternally 
sterile and solitary. Lofty as these environing mountains 
are, they bear scarce any perpetual snow, and no glaciers at 
all south of the fortieth parallel of north latitude. 3 The great 
peaks of Colorado lie little further south than the Pennine 
Alps, which they almost equal in height, but it is only in 
nooks and hollows turned away from the sun that snow lasts 
through the summer, so scanty is the winter snow-fall and so 
rapidly does evaporation proceed in the dry air. That same 
general north and south direction of the American mountain 
ranges, which gives cool winters to the Southern States, cuts 
off the west-borne rain-clouds from the Pacific, and condemns 
one half or more of our fourth region to aridity. On the 
other hand, North-western California, with the western parts 
of Oregon and Washington, washed by the Japan current, 
enjoy both a moderate and a humid — in some places very 
humid — climate, which, along the Pacific coast north of lati- 
tude 43°, resembles that of South-western England. 

Reserving for the moment a consideration of the wealth-pro- 
ducing capacities of the regions at whose physical structure 
and climate we have glanced, let us note how that structure 
and climate have affected the fortunes of the people. 

Whoever examines the general lines of a nation's growth, will 
observe that its development has been guided and governed by 
three main factors. The first is the pre-existing character and 

1 Similar but smaller deserts occur in'Idaho and South-eastern Oregon, and 
also in the extreme south-west. Part of the desert of Southern California is, 
like part of the Sahara and the valley of the Jordan and the Dead Sea, beneath 
the level of the ocean. 

2 In Central Colorado, when snow falls, it does not melt but disappears by 
evaporation, so dry is the air. Sir J. D. Hooker has (in his Himalayan Jour- 
nals) noted the same phenomenon in Tibet. 

3 There is a small glacier on Mount Shasta. 



0BAP.Z01 THE HOMK OF THE NATION 455 



habits of the Race out of which the Nation grows. The second 
is the physical aspect of the land the Nation is placed in, and 
the third embraces the international concomitants of its forma- 
tion, — that is to say, the pressure of other nations upon it, 
and the external political circumstances which have controlled 
its movement, checking- it in one direction or making it spread 
in another. The first of these factors may, in the case of the 
American people, be assumed as known, for their character 
and habits were substantially English. 1 To the second I will 
return presently. The third factor has been in the United 
States so unusually simple that one may dismiss it in a few 
sentences. In examining the origin of such nations as the 
German or French or Russian or Swiss or Spanish, one must 
constantly have regard to the hostile or friendly races or 
powers which acted on them; and these matters are, for the 
earlier periods of European history, often obscure. About 
America we know everything, and what we know may be con- 
cisely stated. The territory now covered by the United States 
was, from a political point of view, practically vacant when 
discovered in the end of the sixteenth century ; for the abo- 
rigines, though their resistance was obstinate in places, and 
though that resistance did much to form the character of the 
Western pioneers, may be left out of account as a historical 
force. This territory was settled from three sides, east, south, 
and west, and by three European peoples. The Spaniards and 
French occupied points on the coast of the Gulf. The Span- 
iards took the shores of the Pacific. The English (reckoning 
among the English the cognate Dutchmen and Swedes) planted 
a series of communities along the Atlantic coast. Of these 
three inderjendent colonizations, that on the Gulf was feeble, 
and passed by purchase to the Anglo-Americans in 1803 and 
1819. That on the Pacific was still more feeble, and also 
passed, but by conquest, to the Anglo-Americans in 1848. 
Thus the occupation of the country has been from its eastern 
side alone (save that California received her immigrants by 

1 There were doubtless other influences, especially Dutch ; but these (though 
a recent writer, Mr. Campbell, has ingeniously made the most of them) are, 
after all, relatively small, not ten per cent, so to speak, of the whole. Far 
more important than the diverse elements of blood were the conditions of 
colonial, and especially of frontier, life which moulded the young nation, re- 
peating in the period between 1780 and 1820 many of the phenomena which 
had accompanied the first settlements of the seventeenth century. 



456 ILLUSTRATIONS AND REFLECTIONS part v 

sea between 1847 and 1867), and the march of the people 
has been steadily westward and sonth-westward. They have 
spread where they wonld. Other powers have scarcely af- 
fected them. Canada, indeed, bonnds them on the north, bnt 
they have fonnd no need to overflow into her narrow strip 
of habitable territory, whence, indeed, a million of people have 
come into their wealthier dominions. Like the Spaniards in 
South America, like the British in Australia, like the Eussians 
in Siberia, the Anglo-Americans have had a free field ; and we 
may pass from the purely political or international factor in 
the development of the nation to consider how its history has 
been affected by those physical conditions which have been 
previously noted. 

The English in America were, when they began their march, 
one people, though divided into a number of autonomous com- 
munities ; and, to a people already advanced in civilization, 
the country was one country, as if destined by nature to retain 
one and undivided whatever nation might occupy it. 

The first settlements were in the region described above as 
the Atlantic Plain and Slope. No natural boundary, whether 
of water or mountain or forest, divided the various communi- 
ties. The frontier line which bounded each colony was an 
artificial line, — a mere historical accident. So long as they 
remained near the coast, nature opposed no obstacle to their co- 
operation in war, nor to their free social and commercial inter- 
course in peace. When, however, they had advanced westwards 
as far as the Alleghanies, these mountains barred their prog- 
ress, not so much in the North, where the valley of the Hudson 
and Mohawk gave an easy path inland, as in Pennsylvania, 
Virginia, and Carolina. The dense, tangled, and often thorny 
underwood, even more than the high steep ridges, checked the 
westward movement of population, prevented the settlers from 
spreading out widely, as the Spaniards dispersed themselves 
over Central and South America, and helped, by inducing a 
comparatively dense population, to build up compact common- 
wealths on the Atlantic coast. So, too, the existence of this 
rough and, for a long time, almost impassable mountain belt, 
tended to cut off those who had crossed it into the western 
wilderness from their more polished parent stock, to throw 
them on their own resources in the struggle with the fierce 
aborigines of Kentucky and Ohio, and to give them that dis- 



THE HOME OK THE NATION 457 



fcinctive character of frontiersmen which was so marked a 
feature of American history during the first half of this cen- 
tury, and has left deep traces on the Western men of* to-day. 
When population began to fill the Mississippi basin the 
essential physical unity of the country became more signifi- 
cant. It suggested to Jefferson, and it led Congress to approve, 
the purchase of Louisiana from Napoleon, for those who had 
begun to occupy the valleys of the Ohio and Tennessee rivers 
felt that they could not afford to be cut off from the sea to 
which these highways of commerce led. Once the stream 
of migration across and around the southern extremity of the 
Alleghanies had begun to flow steadily, the settlers spread out 
in all directions over the vast plain, like water over a marble 
floor. The men of the Carolinas and Georgia filled Alabama, 
Mississippi, and Arkansas; the men of Virginia and Kentucky 
rilled Southern Indiana, Southern Illinois, and Missouri ; the 
men of New England, New York, and Ohio filled Michigan, 
Northern Illinois, Wisconsin, Iowa, and Minnesota. From the 
source to the mouth of the Mississippi there was nothing to 
break them up or keep them apart. Every Western State, 
except where it takes a river as a convenient boundary, is 
bounded by straight lines, because every State is an artificial 
creation. The people were one, and the wide featureless plain 
was also one. It has been cut into those huge plots we call 
States, not because there were physical or racial differences 
requiring divisions, but merely because political reasons made 
a Federal seem preferable to a unitary system. As the size 
of the plain showed that the nation would be large, so did 
the character of the plain promise that it would remain united. 
When presently steamers came to ply upon the rivers, each 
part of the plain was linked more closely to the others ; and 
when the network of railways spread itself out from the East 
to the Mississippi, the Alleghanies practically disappeared. 
They were no longer a barrier to communication. Towns 
sprang up in their valleys ; and now the three regions, which 
have been described as naturally distinct, the Atlantic Slope, 
the Alleghanies, and the Mississippi Basin, have become, 
economically and socially as well as politically, one country, 
though the dwellers in the wilder parts of the broad mountain 
belt still lag far behind their neighbours of the eastern and 
western lowlands. 



458 ILLUSTKATIONS AND REFLECTIONS part v 

When, however, the swelling tide of emigration reached the 
arid lands at the eastern base of the Rocky Mountains, its 
course was for a time stayed. This fourth region of moun- 
tain and desert, lying between the prairies of the Mississippi 
affluents and the Pacific Ocean, was, except its coast line, an 
unknown land till its cession by Mexico in 1846, and the inner 
and higher parts of it remained unexplored for some twenty 
years longer. As it was mostly dry and rugged, there was 
little to tempt settlers into it, for vast tracts of good land 
remained untouched in the central Mississippi plain. Many 
years might have passed before it began to fill up, but for the 
unexpected finding of gold in California. This event at once 
drew in thousands of settlers ; and fresh swarms followed as 
other mines, principally of silver, began to be discovered in 
the inland mountain ranges ; till at last for the difficult and 
dangerous wagon track there was substituted a railway, com- 
pleted in 1867, over mountains and through deserts from 
the Missouri to the Pacific. Had the Americans of 1850 
possessed no more scientific resources than their grandfathers 
in 1790, the valleys of the Pacific coast, accessible only by 
sea round Cape Horn, or across the Isthmus of Panama, 
would have remained isolated from the rest of the country, 
with a tendency to form a character and habits of their own, 
and possibly disposed to aim at political independence. This, 
however, the telegraph and the railways have prevented. Yet 
the Rocky Mountains have not, like the Alleghanies, disap- 
peared. The better peopled parts of California, Oregon, and 
Washington still find that range and the deserts a far more 
effective barrier than are the lower and narrower ridges on 
the eastern side of the continent. The fourth region remains a 
distinct section of the United States, both geographically and 
to some extent in its social and industrial aspects. All this 
was to be expected. What need not have happened, and might 
even have been thought unlikely, was the easy acquisition by 
the Anglo-Americans of California, Oregon, and Washington, 
regions far removed from the dominions which the Republic 
already possessed. Had the competition for unappropriated 
temperate regions been half as keen in 1840 as it is now for 
tropical Africa (a far less attractive possession) between Ger- 
many, France, and Britain, some European power might have 
pounced upon these territories. They might then have become 



chat, xci THE HOME OF THE NATION 450 



and remained a foreign country to the United States, and have 
had few and comparatively slight relations with the Missis- 
sippi Basin. It is not nature, but the historical accident which 
left them in the hands of a feeble power like .Mexico, that has 
made them now. and. so far as can be foreseen, for a long 
future, members of the great Federation. 

In the south-east as well as in the west of the North Ameri- 
can Continent, climate has been a prime factor in determining 
the industrial and political history of the nation. South of 
the thirty-fifth parallel of latitude, although the winters are 
cool enough to be reinvigorative, and to enable a race drawn 
from Northern Europe to thrive and multiply, 1 the summers, 
except in the Alleghany highlands, are too hot for such a 
race to sustain hard open-air work, or to resist the malaria of 
the marshy coast lands. It was for this reason that soon 
after the settlement of Virginia, and for nearly two centuries 
afterwards, natives of the tropics were imported from Africa 
and set to till the fields. By their labour large crops of 
tobacco, cotton, rice, and sugar were raised, and large profits 
made ; so that, while in the North-eastern States slavery pres- 
ently died out, and the negroes themselves declined in numbers, 
all the wealth and prosperity of the South came to depend 
upon slave labour, and slavery became intertwined with the 
pecuniary interests as well as the social habits of the ruling 
class. Thus a peculiar form of civilization grew up, so dis- 
similar from that of the northern half of the country, that not 
even the large measure of State independence secured under 
the Federal Constitution could enable the two sections to 
live together under the same government. Civil war followed, 
and for a time it seemed as if the nation were to be perma- 
nently rent in twain. Physical differences — differences of 
climate, and of all those industrial and social conditions 
that were due to climate — were at the bottom of the strife. 
Yet nature herself fought for imperilled unity. Had the 
seceding States been divided from the Northern States by 
any natural barrier, such as a mountain range running from 
east to west across the continent, the operations of the invading 
armies would have been incomparably more difficult. As it 
was, the path into the South lay open, and the great south- 

1 New Orleans is in the same latitude as Delhi, whence the children of 
Europeans have to be sent home in order that they may grow up iu health. 



460 ILLUSTRATIONS AND REFLECTIONS 



flowing rivers of the West helped the invader. Had there 
not existed, in the Alleghany Mountains, a broad belt of ele- 
vated land, thrusting into the revolted territory a wedge of 
white population which, as it did not own slaves (for in 
the mountains there were scarce any), did not sympathize 
with secession, and for the most part actively opposed it, 
the chances of the Southern Confederates would have been 
far greater. The Alleghanies interrupted the co-operation 
of their Eastern and Western armies, and furnished recruits 
as well as adherents to the North ; and it need hardly be added 
that the climatic conditions of the South made its white pop- 
ulation so much smaller, and on the whole so much poorer, 
than that of the North, that exhaustion came far sooner. He 
who sees the South even to-day, when it has in many places 
gained vastly since the war, is surprised not that it succumbed, 
but that it was able so long to resist. 

With the extinction of slavery, the political unity of the 
country was secured, and the purpose of nature to make it the 
domain of a single people might seem to have been fulfilled. 
Before we inquire whether this result will be a permanent one, 
so far as physical causes are concerned, another set of physical 
conditions deserves to be considered, those conditions, namely, 
of earth and sky, which determine the abundance of useful 
products, that is to say, of wealth, and therethrough, of popu- 
lation also. 

The chief natural sources of wealth are fertile soils, mineral 
deposits, and standing timber. 1 Of these three the last is now 
practically confined to three districts, — the hills of Maine, the 
Alleghanies, and the maritime ranges of the Pacific coast, es- 
pecially in Washington. Elsewhere, though there is a great 
deal of wooded country, the cutting and exporting of timber, 
or, as it is called beyond the Atlantic, " lumber," is not (except 
perhaps in Michigan) an important industry which employs 
or enriches many persons. It is, moreover, one which con- 
stantly declines, for the forests perish daily before fires and 
the axe far more swiftly than nature can renew them. 

As no nation possesses so large an area of land available for 

1 1 omit the fisheries, because their commercial importance is confined to 
three districts, the coasts of Maine and Massachusetts, the rivers of Wash- 
ington and parts of Alaska, with the seal-bearing Pribyloff Isles. The sea 
fisheries of the Pacific coast (Washington, Oregon, and California), are still 
imperfectly developed. 



cuxv. xvi THE HOME 01 THE NATION 401 

the sustenance of man, so also none of the greatest nations 
can boast that out of its whole domain, so large a proportion 
of land is tit for tillage or lor stock-rearing. If we except 
the stony parts of New England and Eastern New York, 
where the soil is thinly spread over crystalline rocks, and 
uhe sandy districts which cover a considerable area in Virginia 
and North Carolina, nearly the whole of the more level tracts 
between the Atlantic and the Rocky Mountains is good agri- 
cultural land, while in some districts, especially on the upper 
Mississippi, this land has proved remarkably rich. Which 
soils will in the long run turn out most fertile, cannot yet 
be predicted. The prairie lands of the North-west have 
needed least labour and have given the largest returns to their 
first cultivators ; but it is doubtful whether this superiority 
will be maintained when protracted tillage has made artificial 
aids necessary, as has already happened in not a few places. 
Some of the soils in the Eastern and Southern States are 
said to improve with cultivation, being rich in mineral con- 
stituents. Not less rich than the Mississippi prairies, but far 
smaller in area, are the arable tracts of the Pacific Slope, where, 
in Washington especially, the loam formed by the decomposition 
of the trappean rocks is eminently productive. In the inner 
parts of the Eocky Mountain region lie many plains and valleys 
of great natural fertility, but dependent, so deficient is the rain- 
fall, upon an artificial supply of water. Were irrigation works 
constructed to bring water, or artesian wells successfully sunk, 
large areas might be cultivated ; but land has not yet become 
scarce enough to make the execution of great works remuner- 
ative, and in many regions the sources of water supply are 
distant or uncertain. The Mormon settlements on the east and 
to the south of Great Salt Lake are the only considerable tract 
as yet thus reclaimed ; there are, however, others from which 
an equally patient industry may draw like results. 

In estimating mineral resources, it is well to distinguish 
between mines of gold, silver, copper, and lead on the one 
hand, and those of coal and iron on the other. The former 
are numerous, and have given vast wealth to a few lucky 
speculators. In some parts of the Rockies and the ranges 
linking them to the Sierra Nevada, the traveller saw, even 
twelve or fifteen years ago, silver mining claims staked out 
on every hill. But these mines are uncertain in their yield ; 



462 ILLUSTRATIONS AND REFLECTIONS part v 

and the value of silver is subject to great fluctuations. Coal 
and iron present a surer, if less glittering gain, and they are 
needed for the support of many important industries. Now, 
while gold, silver, and lead are chiefly found in the Eocky 
Mountain and Sierra Nevada system, copper mainly in the 
West and on Lake Superior, the greatest coal and iron dis- 
tricts x are in Pennsylvania and Ohio, and along the line of the 
Alleghanies southwards into Alabama. It is chiefly in the 
neighbourhood of coal deposits that manufactures develop, yet 
not exclusively, for the water-power available along the foot of 
the New England hills led to the establishment of many factories 
there, which still remain and flourish under changed conditions, 
receiving their coal, however, largely by sea from Nova Scotia. 

What has been the result of these conditions, and what do 
they promise ? 

First : An agricultural population in the Mississippi Basin 
already great, and capable of reaching dimensions from which 
imagination recoils, for though the number of persons to the 
square mile will be less than in Bengal or Egypt, where the 
peasants' standard of comfort is incomparably lower than that 
of the American farmer, it may be as dense as in the most 
prosperous agricultural districts of Europe. 

Secondly: An industrial population now almost equalling 
the agricultural, 2 concentrated chiefly in the North-eastern 
States and along the skirts of the Alleghanies, and in large 
cities springing up here and there where (as at Chicago, Cleve- 
land, Minneapolis, and St. Louis) commerce plants its centres 
of exchange and distribution. This industrial population grows 
far more swiftly than the agricultural, and the aggregate value 
of manufactured products increases faster from census to census 
than does that of the products of the soil. 

Thirdly : A similar but very much smaller agricultural and 
industrial population along the Pacific, five-sixths of it within 
eighty miles of the coast. 

Eourthly : Between the Mississippi Basin and this well- 

1 There are other smaller coal districts, including one in Washington, on 
the shores of Puget Sound. Nor ought the immensely productive mineral oil 
districts, especially those of Pennsylvania and Ohio, to pass unnoticed. 

2 The population inhabiting cities of 8000 people and upwards was in 1890 
still only 29-12 per cent of the total population (though in the North Atlantic 
division it reached 51 per cent) . But a large part of those engaged in mining 
or manufactures may be found in places below that limit of population. 



ohap. \n THE HOME 01 THE NATION 468 

peopled Pacific shore a wide and very thinly inhabited tract, 
Bometimes quite arid, and therefore a wilderness, sometimes 
showing grass-bearing hills with sheep or cattle, and a few 
ranchmen upon the hill-slopes, more randy valleys which irri- 
gation has taughl to wave with crops. And here and there 
through this tract, redeeming it from solitude, there will lie 
scattered mining towns, many of them quick to rise and almost 
as quick to vanish, but others destined, if they occupy the cen- 
tre of a mining district, to maintain a permanent importance. 

Thus the enormous preponderance of population will be on 
the eastern side of the continental watershed. It was so in 
1890, — 56,000,000 of people against 6,000,000, — it is likely to 
remain so, though the disparity may be somewhat less marked. 
The face of the nation will be turned eastward ; and, to borrow 
a phrase of Lowell's, the front door of their house will open 
upon the Atlantic, the back door upon the Pacific. Faint and 
few, so far as we can now predict (though far greater than at 
this moment), will be the relations maintained with Eastern 
Asia and Australia across the vast expanse of that ocean com- 
pared with those that must exist with Europe, to which not 
only literature and social interests, but commerce also, will bind 
America by ties growing always closer and more numerous. 

That the inhabitants of this territory will remain one nation 
is the conclusion to which, as already observed, the geography 
of the continent points. Considerations of an industrial and 
commercial kind enforce this forecast. The United States, 
with nearly all the vegetable staples of the temperate zone, 
and many that may be called subtropical, has within its borders 
a greater variety of products, mineral as well as vegetable, 
than any other country, and therefore a wider basis for inter- 
nal interchange of commodities. Free Trade with other 
countries, desirable as it may be, is of less consequence 
where a vast home trade, stretching across a whole continent, 
has its freedom secured by the Constitution. The advantages 
of such freedom to the wheat and maize growers of the North- 
west, to the cotton and rice and sugar planters of the Gulf 
States, to the orange growers of Florida and the vine growers 
of California, to the cattle men of the West and the horse 
breeders of Kentucky and Idaho, to the lumbermen of Maine 
and Washington, to the coal and iron men of Pennsylvania 
and the Alleghany States, to the factories of New England, 



464 ILLUSTRATIONS AND REFLECTIONS part v 

both employers and workmen, as well as to the consuming 
populations of the great cities, are so obvious as to constitute 
an immense security against separatist tendencies. Such ad- 
vantages, coupled with the social and political forces discussed 
in other chapters, are now amply sufficient to hold the Pacific 
States to the Union, despite the obstacles which nature has 
interposed. In earlier stages of society these obstacles might 
well have proved insurmountable. Had communication been 
as difficult in the middle of the nineteenth century as it was 
in the sixteenth, the inhabitants of the Pacific coast might 
have formed a distinct nationality and grown into independent 
States ; while in the inner recesses of the wide mountain land 
other and probably smaller communities would have sprung 
up, less advanced in culture, and each developing a type of 
its own. But the age we live in favours aggregation. The 
assimilative power of language, institutions, and ideas, as well 
as of economic and industrial forces, is enormous, especially 
when this influence proceeds from so vast a body as that 
of the American people east of the Rocky Mountains, com- 
pared to which the dwellers on the western slope are still 
but few. The failure of the Mormon attempt to found a State 
is an instance to show how vain is the effort to escape from 
these influences ; for even without an exertion of the military 
power of the United States, they must soon, by the natural 
process of colonization, have been absorbed into its mass. 
There is, accordingly, no such reason to expect detachment 
now as there might have been had neither railroads nor 
telegraphs existed, and California been accessible only round 
Cape Horn or across the Isthmus. Now five great trunk lines 
cross the continent ; and though much of the territory which 
lies between the populous margin of the Pacific and the cities 
of Colorado, Nebraska, and Dakota is and must remain wild 
and barren, many settlements, mining, pastoral, and even agri- 
cultural, have begun to spring up in this intervening space, 
and the unpeopled gaps are narrowing day by day. Especially 
along the line of the more northerly railroads, population, 
though it must always be sparse, may become practically con- 
tinuous. A close observer can, however, detect some differ- 
ences in character between Californians and the Americans of 
the Eastern and Mississippi States ; and it is possible, though 
I think far from probable, that when immigration has erased, 



otat.xci THE HOME OF THE NATION 465 

and the Pacific coasts and valleys are peopled by the great- 
grandchildren of Californians and Oregonians, this difference 

may become mere marked, and a Pacific variety of the Ameri- 
can species be discernible. 

We have so far been proceeding on the assumption that the 
inhabitants of the United States will be in the future what 
they have been during the last three generations. It must, 
however, be admitted that two agents are at work which may 
create differences between those who occupy different parts of 
the country greater than any which now exist. One of these 
is immigration from Europe, whereof I will only say that 
there is as yet little sign that it will substantially alter any 
section of the people, so strong is the assimilative power 
which the existing population exerts on the newcomers, and 
that it may probably, within the next few decades, begin to 
decline. 1 Large as it has been, it has not yet affected the 
English spoken in any part of the country ; and one may 
indeed note that though there are marked differences of pro- 
nunciation there are, as respects the words, few dialectic 
variations over the vast area of the Union. The other is 
climate. Xow climatic influences seem to work but slowly 
on a national type already moulded and, so to speak, ham- 
mered into a definite shape by many centuries. The Eng- 
lish race is, after all, a very recent arrival in America. Eew, 
indeed, of the progenitors of the present dwellers in the 
South have been settled there for two centuries; that is to 
say, the present generation is at most only the sixth on w T hich 
the climate has had time to tell. It is therefore quite possible 
that, when five or six more centuries have passed, the low- 
landers of the Gulf States may, under the enervating heat and 
malarial fevers of their summers, together with the desistence 
from physical exertion w r hich that heat compels, have become 
different from what they now are ; though the comparative 
coolness and consequent reinvigorative powers of the winters, 
and the infiltration into their population of newcomers from 

1 I had intended to devote at least one chapter to the immigrants, setting 
forth their numbers, their local distribution, and their influence, both political 
and social, upon different regions of the country. I have, however, been led 
to the opinion that the time has not yet arrived when this large and difficult 
topic can be systematically handled to good purpose. While so large a part 
of the immigrants are still raw strangers, and while so many more continue 
to arrive, all conclusions must be provisional. 

v<>L. II 2 11 



466 ILLUSTRATIONS AND REFLECTIONS part v 

the hardier North, will be influences working in the contrary 
direction. 1 The moral and social sentiments predominant in 
a nation, and the atmosphere of ideas it breathes, tend, as 
education is more and more diffused, and the movements of 
travel to and fro become constantly brisker, to be more and 
more powerful forces in producing similarity of character, and 
similarity of character tells on the man's whole life and con- 
stitution. 

A like question has been raised regarding the whole people 
of the United States as compared with the European stocks 
whence they sprung. The climate of their new country is one 
of greater extremes of heat and cold, and its air more generally 
stimulative, than are the climate and air of the British Isles, 
or even of Germany and Scandinavia. That this climate 
should, given sufficient time, modify the physical type of a 
race, and therewith even its intellectual type, seems only 
natural. Arctic winters and scanty nutriment have, in nine 
centuries, markedly reduced the stature of the Norwegians 
who inhabit Iceland, a country which has received practically 
no admixture of foreign blood, while the stern conditions 
of their lonely life have given them mental and moral habits 
distinguishable from those of the natives of modern Norway. 
But the problem is an obscure one, for many elements 
besides climate enter into it ; and history supplies so few 
cases in point, that the length of time required to modify a 
physical type already settled for centuries is matter for mere 
conjecture. There have been many instances of races from 
cold or damp countries settling in warmer or dryer ones ; but 
in all of these there has been also a mixture of blood, which 
makes it hard to say how much is to be attributed to climatic 
influences alone. What can be stated positively is, that the 
English race has not hitherto degenerated physically in its new 
home ; in some districts it may even seem to have improved. 
The tables of life-insurance companies show that the average 
of life is as long as in Western Europe. People walk less 
and climb mountains less than they do in England, but quite 
as much physical strength and agility are put forth in games, 
and these are pursued with as much ardour. It was noted in 
the War of Secession that the percentage of recoveries from 

1 Of the negroes, the race naturally fitted for these Gulf lowlands, I shall 
speak in a later chapter. 



chap, rci THE HOME OF THE NATION 467 

wounds was larger than in European wars, and the soldiers in 
both armies stood well the test of the long marches through 
rough and sometimes unhealthy regions to which they were 
exposed, those, perhaps, faring best who were of the purest 
American stock, i.e. who came from the districts least affected 
by recent immigration. 1 It has, however, already been remarked 
that the time during which physical conditions have been able 
to work on the Anglo-American race is much too short to enable 
any but provisional conclusions to be formed; and for the same 
reason it is premature to speculate upon the changes in char- 
acter and intellectual tastes which either the natural scenery 
of the American Continent, and in particular its vast central 
plain, or the occupations and economic environment of the 
people, with their increasing tendency to prefer urban to rural 
life, may in the course of ages produce. The science of ethno- 
graphic sociology is still only in its infancy, and the working 
of the causes it examines is so subtle that centuries of experi- 
ence may be needed before it becomes possible to determine 
definite laws of national growth. 

Let us sum up the points in which physical conditions seem 
to have influenced the development of the American people, 
by trying to give a short answer to the question, What kind of 
a home has Nature given to the nation ? 

She has furnished it with resources for production, that is, 
with potential wealth, ampler and more varied than can be 
found in any other country, — an immense area of fertile soil, 
sunshine and moisture fit for all the growths of the temperate, 
and even a few of the torrid, zone, a store of minerals so large 
as to seem inexhaustible. 

She has given it a climate in which the foremost races of 
mankind can thrive and (save in a few districts) labour, an air 
in most regions not only salubrious, but more stimulating than 
that of their ancient European seats. 

She has made communication easy by huge natural water- 
courses, and by the general openness and smoothness of so 
much of the continent as lies east of the Rocky Mountains. 

In laying out a vast central and almost unbroken plain, she 
has destined the largest and richest region of the country 

1 Some valuable remarks on this subject will be found in Professor N. S. 
Shalers interesting book, Nature and Man in America, from Avhich I take 
tbese facts regarding life insurance and the experience of the Civil War. 



468 ILLUSTRATIONS AND REFLECTIONS part v 

to be the home of one nation, and one only. That the lands 
which lie east of this region between the Alleghanies and the 
Atlantic, and those which lie west of it between the Rocky 
Mountains and the Pacific, are also occupied by that one nation 
is due to the fact that before the colonization of the central 
region had gone far, means of communication were invented 
which made the Alleghanies cease to be a barrier, and that 
before the Pacific coast had been thickly settled, the rest of 
the country was already so great in population, wealth, and 
power that its attraction was as irresistible as the moon finds 
the attraction of the earth to be. 

Severing its home by a wide ocean from the old world of 
Europe on the east, and by a still wider one from the half old, 
half new, world of Asia and Australasia on the west, she has 
made the nation sovereign of its own fortunes. It need fear 
no attacks nor even any pressure from the military and naval 
powers of the eastern hemisphere, and it has little temptation 
to dissipate its strength in contests with them. It has no doubt 
a strong neighbour on the North, but a friendly one, linked by 
many ties of interest as well as kindred, and not likely ever 
to become threatening. It had on the South neighbours who 
might have been dangerous, but fortune favoured it by making 
one of them hopelessly weak, and obliging the other, strong as 
she was, to quit possession at a critical moment. Thus is it 
left to itself as no great State has ever yet been in the world; 
thus its citizens enjoy an opportunity never before granted to a 
nation, of making their country what they will to have it. 

These are unequalled advantages. They contain the elements 
of immense defensive strength, of immense material prosperity. 
They disclose an unrivalled field for the development of an 
industrial civilization. Nevertheless, students of history, know- 
ing how unpredictable is the action of what we call moral 
causes, that is to say, of emotional and intellectual influences 
as contrasted with those rooted in physical and economic facts, 
will not venture to base upon the most careful survey of the 
physical conditions of America any bolder prophecy than this, 
that not only will the State be powerful and the wealth of its 
citizens prodigious, but that the Nation will probably remain 
one in its government, and still more probably one in speech, 
in character, and in ideas. 



CHAPTER XCII 

THE SOUTH SINCE THE WAR 

Though in the preceding chapters I have sought, so far as 
possible, to describe the political phenomena of America in 
general terms, applicable to all parts of the Union, it has often 
been necessary to remind the reader that the conditions of the 
Southern States, both political and social, are in some respects 
exceptional, one may almost say, abnormal. The experience 
of this section of the country has been different from that of 
the more populous and prosperous North, for the type of its 
civilization was till thirty years ago determined by the exist- 
ence of slavery. It has suffered, and has been regenerated, by 
a terrible war. It is still confronted by a peculiar and menacing- 
problem in the presence of a mass of negroes much larger 
than was the whole population of the Union in a. d. 1800, per- 
sons who, though they are legally and industrially members of 
the nation, are still virtually an alien element, unabsorbed 
and unabsorbable. In the present chapter I propose to sketch 
in brief outline the fortunes of the Southern States since the 
war, and their present economic and social condition, reserving 
for the chapter which follows an equally succinct account of 
the state of the coloured population, and their relations, 
present and prospective, to the whites. 

The history and the industrial situation of the Southern 
States cannot be understood without a comprehension of their 
physical conditions. That part of them which lies east of the 
Mississippi consists of two regions. There is what may be 
called the plantation country, a comparatively level, low, and 
fertile region, lying along the coast of the Atlantic and the 
Gulf of Mexico, and stretching up the basin of the Mississippi 
River. And there is the highland region, a long, broad tongue 
of elevated land stretching down from the north into this level 



470 ILLUSTRATIONS AND REFLECTIONS part v 

plantation country, between the 39th and the 33d parallels 
of north latitude. Although the mountain country encloses 
within its network of parallel ridges many fertile valleys, 
while upon its outer slopes, where they sink to the plain, there 
is plenty of good land, the greater part of its area is covered 
by thick forests, or is too steep and rough for tillage. To 
men with capital and to the better sort of settlers generally, 
it was uninviting, and thus while the rest of the South was 
being occupied and brought under cultivation, it long remained 
thinly peopled and in many districts quite wild, with scarcely 
any roads and no railways. As the soil was not fit for tobacco, 
cotton, rice, or sugar, the planters had no motive to bring slave 
labour into it, not to add that the winter cold made it no fit 
dwelling place for the swarthy children of the tropics. Hence 
this region was left to be slowly and sparsely peopled by the 
poorest of the whites, and a race of small farmers and wood- 
men grew up. They were rude and illiterate, cut off from the 
movements of the world, and having little in common with the 
inhabitants of the low country east and west of them, yet 
hardy and vigorous, with the virtues, and some of the fierce- 
ness, of simple mountaineers, honest among themselves, and 
with a dangerously keen sense of personal honour, but hostile 
to the law and its ministers. While the whole cultivation of 
-the plain country of Virginia, the Carolinas, Georgia, Tennes- 
see, and Kentucky was done by negroes, and these States, 
more particularly Virginia and the Carolinas, were ruled by 
an oligarchy of wealthy planters, negroes were scarcely to be 
seen in the mountains of Eastern Kentucky, Western Virginia, 
North Carolina, and Eastern Tennessee, and the scanty white 
population of these mountains had no influence on the conduct 
of public affairs. Hence when the Civil War broke out, this 
race of hillmen, disliking slavery, and having no love for the 
planters, adhered to the Union cause, and sent thousands of 
stalwart recruits into the Union armies. Even to-day, though, 
as we shall presently see, it has been much affected by the 
running of railways through it, the opening of mines and the 
setting up of iron works, the mountain land of the South 
remains unlike the plain country both in the character of its 
inhabitants and in the physical conditions which have created 
that character, conditions which, as will appear in the se- 



Obap. ion THE SOUTH SINCE THE WAR 171 

quel, are an important factor in the so-called Negro Prob- 
lem. 

Excluding these Highlanders, — and excluding also the three 
Border states which did not secede, Maryland, Kentucky, and 
Missouri, — there were at the end of the war three classes of 
persons in the South. There was the planting aristocracy, 
which the war had ruined. The elder men had seen their 
estates laid waste such savings as they possessed exhausted, 
their whole negro property, estimated (over the whole country), 
at nearly $2,000,000, gone from them into freedom. Of the 
younger men. a large part had fallen in the field. All, old 
and young, had no capital left with which to work the estates 
that still remained in their hands. Land and negroes had 
been their only wealth, for there were practically no manu- 
factures and little commerce, save at the half dozen seaports. 
Credit was gone ; and everything, even the railroads, was in 
ruins. Thus the country was, as a whole, reduced to poverty, 
and the old plantation life broken up for ever. 

The second class consisted of the poor or, as they were 
often called, " mean " whites, who, in the lowlands and outside 
the few cities, included all the white population below the 
level of the planters. On them, too, slavery had left its 
hateful stamp. Considering themselves above field labour, 
which in any case they could hardly have undertaken in the 
hot regions along the Atlantic and the Gulf coasts, they con- 
tracted habits of idleness and unthrift ; they were uneducated, 
shiftless, unenterprising, and picked up their living partly by 
a languid cultivation of patches of land, and by hunting, 
partly by hanging about the plantations in a dependent con- 
dition, doing odd jobs and receiving occasional aid. To them 
the war brought good, for not only was labour dignified by 
the extinction of slavery, but their three or four years of 
service in the Confederate armies called out their finer quali- 
ties and left them more of men than it found them. More- 
over with the depression of the planting oligarchy their social 
inferiority and political subservience became less marked. 

The third class were the negroes, then about four millions 
in number, whose sudden liberation threw a host of difficulties 
upon the States where they lived, and upon the Federal govern- 
ment, which felt responsible not only for the good order of 



472 ILLUSTRATIONS AND REFLECTIONS part v 

the reconquered South, but in a special manner for those whose 
freedom its action had procured. They were — even the ma- 
jority of the (comparatively few) free blacks in the towns — 
illiterate, and scarcely more fit to fend for themselves and 
guide their course as free citizens than when they or their 
fathers had been landed from the slave ship. 

In this state of things, three great problems presented them- 
selves to the Federal government whose victorious armies were 
occupying the South. How should the State governments in the 
States that had seceded and been conquered be re-established ? 
What provision should be made for the material support and 
protection in personal freedom of the emancipated slaves ? To 
what extent should not merely passive but also active civil 
rights — that is to say, rights of participating in the govern- 
ment as electors or officials — be granted to these f reedmen ? 

The solution of these problems occupied twelve eventful 
years from 1865 to 1877, and constitutes one of the most intri- 
cate chapters in American history. I must refrain from dis- 
cussing either the party conflicts at Washington, or the subtle 
legal questions that were raised in Congress and in the courts, 
and be content with touching on the action taken by the Fed- 
eral and State governments so far and only so far as it affected 
the relations of the negroes and the whites. 

The first action was taken by the Southern States themselves. 
Conformably to his amnesty proclamation of 1863, President 
Lincoln had recognized new State governments, loyal to the 
Union, in Tennessee and Louisiana, as he had previously done 
in Arkansas. When the war had ended, the other reconquered 
States (except Texas) took a course similar to that which the 
loyalists of those States had taken. The white inhabitants, 
except those excluded by the terms of President Johnson's 
amnesty proclamation of May, 1865, chose conventions : these 
conventions enacted new constitutions : and under these con- 
stitutions, new State legislatures were elected. These legislat- 
ures promptly accepted the amendment (the thirteenth) to 
the Federal Constitution by which (in 1865) slavery was 
abolished, and then went on to pass laws for the regulation of 
negro labour and against vagrancy, laws which, though repre- 
sented, and probably in good faith, as necessary for the control 
of a mass of ignorant beings suddenly turned adrift, with no one 



chap, ion THE SOUTH SINCE THE WAR 478 

to control them and no habits of voluntary industry or thrift, 
kept the negroes in a state of inferiority, and might have been 
so worked as to reduce a large part of them to practical servi- 
tude. This was a false move, for it excited alarm and resent- 
ment at the North ; and it was accompanied by conflicts here 
and there between the whites, especially the disbanded Con- 
federate soldiers, and the coloured people; conflicts the more 
regrettable, because the slaves had, during the war, behaved 
excellently towards the defenceless white women and children 
on the plantations, and had given their former masters little 
or nothing to revenge. It was, therefore, in a suspicious 
temper that Congress approached the question of the re- 
settlement of the South. The victors had shown unexampled 
clemency to the vanquished, but they were not prepared to 
kiss and be friends in the sense of at once readmitting those 
whom they deemed and called "rebels" to their old full consti- 
tutional rights. Slavery, which at the beginning of the war 
they had for the most part disclaimed the purpose to abolish, 
had now become utterly detestable to them, and the negro an 
object of special sympathy. They felt bound to secure for 
him, after all they had done and suffered, the amplest protec- 
tion. It might perhaps have been wiser to revert to the 
general maxims of American statesmanship, and rely upon 
the natural recuperative forces and the interest which the 
South itself had in re-establishing order and just government. 
But the Northern leaders could not be expected to realize how 
completely the idea of another revolt had vanished from the 
minds of the Southern people, who, in a characteristically 
American fashion, had already accepted the inevitable, perceiv- 
ing that both slavery and the legal claim to secede were gone 
for ever. And these leaders — more particularly those who sat 
in Congress — were goaded into more drastic measures than 
reflection might have approved by the headstrong violence of 
President Andrew Johnson, who, as a Southern States Rights 
man of the old type, had announced that the States were 
entitled to resume their former full rights of self-government, 
and who, while stretching his powers to effect this object, 
had been denouncing Congress in unmeasured terms. Very 
different might have been the course of events had the patient 
wisdom of Lincoln lived to guide the process of resettlement. 



474 ILLUSTRATIONS AND REFLECTIONS part v 

Under the influence of these sentiments, Congress refused 
to allow the members elected from the reconquered States to take 
their seats, and enacted a statute establishing a Freedmen's 
Bureau, armed with large powers for the oversight and sup- 
port of the liberated negroes. Passed in 1865, and in 1866 con- 
tinued for two years longer, this Act practically superseded the 
legislation of the reconquered States regarding the coloured 
people. Congress then passed and proposed for acceptance 
by the States (June, 1866) an amendment (the fourteenth) 
to the Federal Constitution, which conferred citizenship, State 
as well as Federal, on all persons born or naturalized in the 
United States and subject to the jurisdiction thereof, forbade 
legislation by a State abridging the privileges or immunities 
of a citizen of the United States, and provided for reducing 
the representation in Congress of any State in proportion to 
the number of its citizens excluded from the suffrage. As all 
danger of a return of slavery had already vanished, it was 
a tremendous forward move to put this pressure upon the 
Southern States to confer full voting rights upon their negroes. 
These States, however, would probably have done well to 
accept the amendment, and might perhaps have accepted it 
had they realized what was the temper of the party dominant 
at the North. But they complained of the proposal to cut down 
representation in respect of excluded citizens, arguing that 
there were Northern States where colour was a ground of exclu- 
sion, and which, nevertheless, would suffer much less than the 
Southern States because the number of their coloured residents 
was far smaller ; and they also resented a provision in the 
amendment which disqualified from voting or office all persons 
who having ever taken an oath to support the Constitution of 
the United States had been concerned in " insurrection or re- 
bellion against the same." Accordingly all these States, 
except Tennessee, rejected the amendment. This further 
stimulated the anger and suspicion of Congress, which pro- 
ceeded (March 2, 1867) to pass the so-called Beconstruction 
Act (a bill "to provide efficient governments for the insur- 
rectionary States ") designed to create legitimate governments 
in the States not yet readmitted to the Union (ignoring the 
governments set up by the white inhabitants), and to deter- 
mine the conditions proper for their readmission. By this 



cii.ir. ten THE SOUTH SINCE THE WAK I ,., 

Act these States, that is, the whole seceding South except 
Tennessee, wore divided into five military districts, each to 
be governed by a brigadier-general of the Federal army, until 
buod time as a State convention should have framed a new 

constitution, the Fourteenth Amendment have been ratified and 
the State have been duly readmitted. The delegates to each 
convention were to be elected by all the male citizens, exclud- 
ing such as, having previously sworn to support the Federal 
Constitution, had been concerned in the late rebellion ; and it 
was to these same voters that the new Constitution when 
framed was to be submitted for ratification. This provision, 
while it admitted the negroes to be voters and delegates to 
the conventions, debarred from both functions most of the 
leading whites, and left the conventions to be "run" by those 
few whites who had remained faithful to the Union, and by 
adventurers who had come from the North in the track 
of the Federal armies. The Reconstruction Act was duly car- 
ried out ; conventions were held ; constitutions granting equal 
suffrage to all, blacks and whites, were enacted, and new State 
governments installed accordingly, in which, however, the lead- 
ing w r hite men of each State, since not yet pardoned, could 
obtain no place either as legislators or as officials. By this 
procedure, six States w r ere in 1868 readmitted to Congress, as 
having satisfied the conditions imposed, and the remaining 
States within the two years following. In July, 1868, the 
Fourteenth Amendment became a part of the Constitution, 
having been accepted by three-fourths of the States, and in 
March, 1870, the Fifteenth Amendment, forbidding the voting 
right of citizens to be " denied or abridged on account of race, 
colour, or previous condition of servitude," also became by 
similar acceptance part of the Constitution and binding on all 
the States. With this, and with the passing in 1870 and 
1871 of penal laws, commonly called the Force Acts, in- 
tended to protect the negroes in the exercise of the suf- 
frage, the direct interference of the Federal legislature 
ended. In 1872, by the general Amnesty Act, it readmitted 
the great bulk of the ex-Confederates to full political 
rights. 

Meanwhile, how had things been going in the Southern 
States themselves ? All the leading whites having been dis- 



476 ILLUSTRATIONS AND REFLECTIONS part v 

qualified from voting or taking part in the government, the 
only factors or forces left were, — 

First, such whites as had adhered to the Union throughout 
the war — in most States neither a numerous nor an influential 
body. 

Secondly, a vast mass of negroes suddenly set free, and abso- 
lutely destitute, not only of political experience, but even of 
the most rudimentary political ideas. 

Thirdly, men sent down from the North as agents of the 
Freedmen's Bureau, or otherwise in connection with the Federal 
government, and persons who had come of themselves in the 
hope of profiting by such opportunities for enrichment as the 
abnormal conditions of the country might create. 

The voting strength was, of course, with the negroes, espe- 
cially in South Carolina and the Gulf States (except Texas) ; 
and a certain number were chosen to sit in the legislatures and 
to fill the less important offices. In the legislatures of South 
Carolina and Mississippi, they formed the majority ; and from 
the latter State they sent one of themselves to the Federal 
Senate. But leadership, of course, fell to the whites, who 
alone were capable of it, and chiefly to those white adven- 
turers whose scanty stock of portable property won for them 
the name of " carpet-baggers." They organized the negroes 
for elections, State and local, they tampered with the electoral 
lists and stuffed the ballot-boxes, 1 they "ran" the legislatures. 
They pounced upon the lucrative places, satisfying negro claims 
with posts of less consequence, 2 they devised the various 
methods by which taxation was increased, debt rolled up, 
offices created and lavishly paid, frauds of every kind per- 
petrated for the benefit of themselves and their friends. Such 
a Saturnalia of robbery and jobbery has seldom been seen in 
any civilized country, and certainly never before under the 
forms of free self-government. The coloured voters could 
hardly be blamed for blindly following the guides who repre- 
sented to them the party to which they owed their liberty ; 

1 Sometimes the beautifully simple plan was adopted of providing the ballot- 
box, carefully locked and sealed at its proper aperture, with a sliding side. 

2 In South Carolina, in 1875, according to the trustworthy evidence of Gov- 
ernor Chamberlain, two hundred persons had been appointed justices of the 
peace, with a certain civil as well as criminal jurisdiction, who could neither 
read nor write. 



ciur. rcxi THE SOUTH SINCE THE WAB 477 

and as they had little property, taxation did not press upon 
thein nor the increase of debt alarm them. Those among the 
negroes to whom the chief profit accrued were the preachers, 
who enjoyed a sort of local influence, and could sometimes 
command the votes of their fellows, and the legislators, who 
were accustomed, in South Carolina, for instance, to be paid a 
few dollars for every bill they passed. 1 But nine tenths of the 
illicit gains went to the whites. Many of them w r ere persons 
of infamous character who ultimately saved themselves from 
justice by flight. For the time they enjoyed absolute impu- 
nity, without even that check which public opinion imposes on 
the worst rulers when they themselves belong to the district 
which they rule. 

The position of these adventurers was like that of a Koman 
provincial governor in the later days of the Republic, or an 
English official in the East Indies in the earlier days of the 
Company's conquests, save that they had less to fear from 
subsequent prosecution than Verres, and less from a parlia- 
mentary inquiry than the companions of Clive. The very 
securities with which the Federal system surrounds State au- 
tonomy contributed to encourage their audacity. The National 
government was not responsible, because the whole machinery 
of State government was in form complete and to all outward 
appearance in normal action. But as voting power lay with 
those who were wholly unfit for citizenship, and had no 
interest, as taxpayers, in good government, as the legislatures 
were reckless and corrupt, the judges for the most part sub- 
servient, the Federal military officers bound to support what 
purported to be the constitutional authorities of the State, 
Congress distant and little inclined to listen to the complaints 
of those whom it distrusted as rebels, 2 greed was unchecked 
and roguery unabashed. The methods of plunder were numer- 
ous. Every branch of administration became wasteful. Public 

1 An anecdote is told of an old negro in North Carolina who, heing discovered 
counting the fee he had received for his vote in the legislature, said with a 
chuckle, " I have been sold eleven times in my life, and this is the first time 
I ever got the money." 

2 Nearly the whole representation in Congress of these States was in the 
hands of the then ruling Republican party. The Southern members were 
largely accomplices in the local misgovernment here described, nearly half 
of them being carpet-baggers from the North, while few of the Northern 
members had any knowledge of it. some perhaps not caring to enquire. 



478 ILLUSTRATIONS AND REFLECTIONS part v 

contracts were jobbed, and the profits shared. Extravagant 
salaries were paid to legislators ; extravagant charges allowed 
for all sorts of work done at the public cost. But perhaps the 
commonest form of robbery, and that conducted on the largest 
scale, was for the legislature to direct the issue of bonds in aid 
of a railroad or other public work, these bonds being then 
delivered to contractors who sold them, shared the proceeds 
with the governing Ring, and omitted to execute the work. 
Much money was however taken in an even more direct fashion 
from the State treasury or from that of the local authority ; 
and as not only the guardians of the public funds, but even, 
in many cases, the courts of law, were under the control of 
the thieves, discovery was difficult and redress unattainable. 
In this way the industrious and property-holding classes saw 
the burdens of the State increase, with no pow r er of arresting 
the process. In North Carolina, $14,000,000 worth of railroad 
bonds were issued, and no railway made. In Alabama, the 
State debt rose in four years from $8,356,000 to $25,503,000,. 
with little or nothing to show for it. In Mississippi, the State 
levy had been ten cents on the $100 of assessed value of lands. 
In 1874 it had risen to fourteen times that rate. In South 
Carolina, the State debt leapt in four years from $5,407,000 to 
$18,515,000, and Governor Moses, not content with his share 
of the plunder, openly sold his pardons, of which he granted 
457 in two years. But the climax was reached in Louisiana, 
where, in a single year, the State debt w^as increased fourfold, 
and the local debt twofold, while in four years' time the total 
State and city indebtedness was rolled up by the sum of 
$54,000,000, all of which went to the spoilers, and nothing to 
permanent improvements. 

Whether owing to those amiable traits in the national char- 
acter which often survive the sterner virtues, or to the fact 
that the thieves were too busy filling their pockets to have 
leisure for other outrages, this misgovernment was accompa- 
nied by less oppression and cruelty than might have been 
expected. Some such acts there doubtless were, particularly 
in the rougher districts of the extreme South-west ; and in sev- 
eral States the dominant faction, not satisfied with the presence 
of Federal troops, sought to preserve order by creating bodies 
of State guards or State police, or a negro militia. In Mis- 



OHAP.xcn THE SOUTH SINCE THE WAR 470 

sissipi the coloured people were enrolled in a •• Loyal League." 
Unlike the Federal civil officials, who weiv often disreputable 

and unscrupulous partisans, sometimes most improperly com- 
bining the headship of the local Republican organization with 
an office demanding impartiality, 1 the Federal military officers, 
though their conduct was sometimes impugned, seem on the 
whole to have behaved with uprightness and good sense, making 
their military conl rol as gentle as such a thing ever can be. Nor 
ditl the negroes, untutored as they were, and jubilant in their 
new freedom, show the turbulence or the vindictiveness which 
might have been looked for in a less kindly race. Neverthe- 

disorders broke out. A secret combination, called the 
Ku Klux Kian. said to have been originally formed in Ten- 

e by youths for purposes of amusement, spread rapidly 
through the country, and became credited with the numerous 
petty outrages which, during 1868 and the following years, 
were perpetrated upon negroes, and (less frequently) upon 
whites supposed to be in sympathy with negroes, in the rural 
South. Many of these outrages were probably the work of 
village ruffians who had no connection with any organization, 
still less any political motive. But the impossibility of dis- 
covering those who committed them, and the absence of any 
local efforts to repress them, showed the profound discontent 
of the better class of whites with the governments which the 
coloured vote had installed, while unfortunately confirming 
Congress in its suspicion of the former rebels as being still 
at heart enemies of the Union and the negro. No open resist- 
ance to the Federal troops was attempted ; but neither their 
activity nor the penal laws passed by Congress w r ere effective 
in checking the floggings, house-burnings, and murders which, 
during these years, disgraced some districts. Meanwhile, the 
Xorth grew weary of repression, and began to be moved by 
the accounts that reached it of " carpet-bag government." A 
political reaction, due to other causes, had made itself felt in 
the North ; and the old principle of leaving the States to them- 
selves gained more and more upon the popular mind, even 
within the still dominant Republican party. Though some of 

1 In Louisiana, for instance, the Federal marshal, who was entitled to call 
on the Federal troops to aid him, was for a time chairman of the Republican 
State Committee. 



480 ILLUSTRATIONS AND REFLECTIONS part v 

its prominent leaders desired, perhaps not without a view to 
party advantage, to keep down the South, they were over- 
borne by the feeling, always strong in America, that every 
community to which self-government has been granted must 
be left to itself to work out its own salvation, and that con- 
tinued military occupation could not be justified where no 
revolt was apprehended. The end came in 1876-77. Between 
1869 and 1876, the whites had in every Southern State except 
South Carolina, Florida, and Louisiana, regained control of 
the government, and in 1876 those three States were also 
recovered. 1 The circumstances were different, according to the 
character of the population in each State. In some a union 
of the moderate white Kepublicans with the Democrats, 
brought about by the disgust of all property holders at the 
scandals they saw and at the increase to their burdens as 
tax-payers, had secured legitimately chosen majorities, and 
ejected the corrupt officials. In some the same result was 
attained by paying or otherwise inducing the negroes not to go 
to the polls, or by driving them away by threats or actual 
violence. Once possessed again of a voting majority, the 
whites, all of whom had by 1872 been relieved of their dis- 
abilities, took good care, by a variety of devices, legal and 
extra-legal, to keep that majority safe; and in no State has 
their control of the government been since shaken. President 
Hayes withdrew, in 1877, such Federal troops as were still left 
at the South, and none have ever since been despatched thither. 
This sketch has been given, not so much because it is a 
curious phase in the history of democracy, and one not likely 
ever to recur, either in the United States or elsewhere, as be- 
cause it has determined and explained the whole subsequent 
course of events and the present attitude, whereof more anon, 
of the Southern people. That Congress made some mistakes 
is proved by the results. Among those results must be reck- 
oned not merely the load of needless debt imposed upon the 
Southern States, and the retardation of their recovery from the 
losses of the war, but the driving of all their respectable white 
citizens into the Democratic party and their alienation from 

1 Those States in which the whites first recovered control, such as Georgia, 
have generally fared hest subsequently. They have had less debt to carry, 
and commercial confidence was sooner restored. 



run SOUTH sixer. THE \v.\i; m 



the Republicans of the North, together with the similar aggre- 
gation of tin 1 negroes in the Republican party, and consequent 
creation of a so-called "colour line " in politics. Habits of law- 
lessness have moreover been perpetuated among the whites, and 
there has been formed in both parties the pernicious practice 
of tampering with elections, sometimes by force and sometimes 
by fraud, a practice which strikes at the very root of free popu- 
lar government. 

But was the great and capital act of the Republican party 
when it secured the grant of the suffrage to the negroes en 
bine one of those mistakes? To nearly all Europeans such a 
step seemed and still seems monstrous. No people could be 
imagined more hopelessly unfit for political power than this 
host of slaves; and their unfitness became all the more dan- 
gerous because the classes among whom the new voters ought 
to have found guidance were partly disfranchised and partly 
forced into hostility. American eyes, however, see the matter 
in a different light. To them it is an axiom, that without the 
suffrage there is no true citizenship, and the negro would have 
appeared to be scarcely free had he received only the private 
and passive, and not also the public and active rights of a 
citizen. "I realized in 1867," says General Wade Hampton, 
one of the most distinguished leaders of the South, "that 
when a man had been made a citizen of the United States, he 
could not be debarred from voting on account of his colour. 
Such exclusion would be opposed to the entire theory of 
republican institutions." 1 It is true that there were Northern 
States, such as even the New England Connecticut and the 
half New England Ohio, as well as Michigan and Pennsyl- 
vania, in which persons of colour were so debarred. 2 But the 
Abolitionist movement and the war had given an immense 
stimulus to the abstract theory of human rights, and had made 
the negro so much an object of sympathy to the Northern 
people, that these restrictions were vanishing before the doc- 
trine of absolute democratic equality and the rights of man 
as man. There was, moreover, a practical argument of some 
weight. The gift of the suffrage presented itself to the 

• 

1 North American Review for March, 1879. 

2 Connecticut as late as 1865 and Ohio as late as 1867 declined to extend 
equal suffrage to negroes. 

VOL. ir 2 1 



482 ILLUSTRATIONS AND REFLECTIONS 



Northern statesmen as the alternative to continuance of mil- 
itary government. Without the suffrage, the negro might 
have been left defenceless and neglected, unimproved and 
unim proving. In the words of another distinguished South- 
ern, the late Mr. Justice Lamar, "In the unaccustomed 
relation into which the white and coloured people of the 
South were suddenly forced, there would have been a nat- 
ural tendency on the part of the former masters, still in 
the possession of the land and intelligence of the country 
and of its legislative power, to use an almost absolute au- 
thority, and to develop the new freedman according to their 
own idea of what was good for him. This would have resulted 
in a race distinction, and with such incidents of the old system 
as would have discontented the negro and dissatisfied the 
general sentiment of the country. If slavery was to be abol- 
ished, there could be nothing short of complete abolition, free 
from any of the affinities of slavery ; and this would not have 
been effected so long as there existed any inequality before the 
law. The ballot was therefore a protection of the negro 
against any such condition, and enabled him to force his inter- 
ests upon the consideration of the South." T 

The American view that "the suffrage is the sword and shield 
of our law, the best armament that liberty offers to the citizen," 
does not at once commend itself to a European, who conceives 
that every government is bound to protect the unenfranchised 
equally with the enfranchised citizen. But it must be remem- 
bered that in the United States this duty is less vigilantly 
performed than in England or Germany, and that there were 
special difficulties attending its performance under a Federal 
system, which leaves the duty, save where Federal legislation 
is involved, to the authorities of the several States. 

It has been usual to charge those who led Congress with 
another and less noble motive for granting electoral rights to 
the negroes, viz. : the wish to secure their votes for the Re- 
publican party. Motives are always mixed ; and doubtless 
this consideration had its weight. Yet it was not a purely 
selfish consideration. As it was by the Republican party that 
the war had been waged and the negro set free, the Republican 
leaders were entitled to assume that his protection could be 
1 North American Review for March, 1879. 



chap.xcii THK SOUTH SINCE T1IK WAK I8S 



secured only by their continued ascendancy. Thai ascendancy 
was not wisely used. But the circumstances were so novel 
and perplexing, that perhaps no statesmanship l< i ss sagacious 

than President Lincoln's could have handled them with success. 

With the disappearance of the carpet-bag and negro govern- 
ments, the third era in the political history of the South since 
the war began. The first had been that of exclusively white 
suffrage; the second, that of predominantly negro suffrage. In 
the third, universal suffrage and complete legal equality were 
soon perceived to mean in practice the full supremacy of the 
whites. To dislodge the coloured man from his rights was 
impossible, for they were secured by the Federal Constitution 
which prevails against all State action. The idea of disturb- 
ing them was scarcely entertained. Even at the election of 1872 
the Southern Democrats no more expected to repeal the Fif- 
teenth Amendment than the English Tories expected at the elec- 
tion of 1874 to repeal the Irish Church Disestablishment Act of 
1869. But the more they despaired of getting rid of the amend- 
ment, the more resolved were the Southern people to prevent it 
from taking any effect which could endanger their supremacy. 
They did not hate the negro, certainly not half so much as 
they hated his white leaders by whom they had been robbed. 
•• We have got," they said, "to save civilization," and if civili- 
zation could be saved only by suppressing the coloured vote, 
they were ready to suppress it. This was the easier, because 
while most of the carpet-baggers had fled, nearly all the respect- 
able whites of the South, including those who had been Whigs 
before the war and who had opposed secession, were now united 
in the new Democratic, or rather anti-negro party. A further 
evidence of the power of the motives which have swayed them 
may be found in the fact that nearly every Northern man who 
has of late years gone South for commercial purposes, has 
before long ranged himself with this anti-negro party, what- 
ever his previous " affiliations " may have been. 

The modes of suppression have not been the same in all dis- 
tricts and at all times. At first there was a good deal of what 
is called " bulldozing," i.e. rough treatment and terrorism, 
applied to frighten the coloured men from coming to or voting 
at the polls. Afterwards, the methods were less harsh. Regis- 
trations were so managed as to exclude negro voters, arrange- 



484 ILLUSTRATIONS AND REFLECTIONS part v 



ments for polling were contrived in such wise as to lead the voter 
to the wrong place so that his vote might be refused ; and, if the 
necessity arose, the Republican candidates were counted out, or 
the election returns tampered with. "I would stuff a ballot- 
box," said a prominent man, " in order to have a good, honest 
government ; " and he said it in good faith, and with no sense 
of incongruity. Sometimes the local negro preachers were 
warned or paid to keep their flocks away. More humorous 
devices were not disdained, as when free tickets to a travelling 
circus were distributed among the negroes, and the circus paid 
to hold its exhibition at a place and hour which prevented them 
from coming to vote. South Carolina enacted an ingenious law 
which provides that there shall be eight ballot-boxes for as many 
posts to be filled at the election, that a vote shall not be counted 
unless placed in the proper box, and that the presiding officer 
shall not be bound to tell the voter which is the proper box in 
which each vote ought to be deposited. The illiterate negroes so 
often vote in the wrong box, the boxes being frequently shifted 
to disconcert instructions given beforehand, that a large part of 
their votes are lost, while the illiterate white is apt to receive the 
benevolent and not forbidden help of the presiding officer. 

Notwithstanding these impediments, the negro long main- 
tained the struggle, valuing the vote as the symbol of his 
freedom, and fearing to be re-enslaved if the Republican party 
should be defeated. Leaders and organizers were found in the 
Federal office-holders, of course all Republicans, a numerous 
class, — Mr. Nordhoff, a careful and judicious observer, says 
there were in 1875 three thousand in Georgia alone, — and 
a class whose members virtually held their offices on condition 
of doing their political work; being liable to be removed 
if they failed in their duty, as the Turks remove a Vali who 
sends up too little money to Stamboul. After 1884, however, 
when the presidency of the United States passed to a Demo- 
crat, some of these office-holders were replaced by Democrats 
and the rest became less zealous. It was, moreover, already 
by that time clear that the whites, being again in the saddle, 
meant to stay there, and the efforts of the Republican organi- 
zers grew feebler as they lost hope. Their friends at the 
North were exasperated, not without reason, for the gift 
of suffrage to the negroes had resulted in securing to the 



ohap. xcn THE SOUTH SINCE THE WAR 485 



South a larger representation in Congress and in presidential 

elections than it enjoyed before the war. or would have en- 
joyed had the negroes been Left unenfranchised. They argued, 
and truly, that where the law gives a right, the law ought to 
secure the exercise thereof; and when the Southern men 
replied that the negroes were ignorant, they rejoined that all 
over the country there were myriads of ignorant voters, 
mostly recent immigrants, whom no one thought of excluding. 
Accordingly in L890, having a majority in both Houses of 
Congress and a President of their own party, the Republican 
leaders introduced a bill subjecting the control of Federal 
elections to officers to be appointed by the President, in the 
hope of thus calling out a full negro vote, five sixths of which 
would doubtless have gone to their party. The measure 
appeared to dispassionate observers quite constitutional, and 
the mischief it was designed to remedy was palpable. It 
excited, however, great irritation at the South, uniting in 
opposition to it nearly all whites of every class, while no 
corresponding enthusiasm on its behalf was evoked at the 
North. It passed the House, but was dropped in the Senate 
under the threat of an obstructive resistance by the (then 
Democratic) minority. Secure, however, as the dominance of 
the whites seems now to be against either Northern legis- 
lation or negro revolt, the Southern people are still uneasy 
and sensitive on the subject, and have been held together 
in a serried party phalanx by this one colour question, to 
the injury of their political life, which is thus prevented 
from freely developing on the lines of the other questions 
that from time to time arise. So keen is their recollection 
of the carpet-bag days, so intense the alarm at any possibility 
of their return, that internal dissensions, such as those which 
the growth of the Farmers' Alliance party has lately evoked, 
are seldom permitted to give Republican candidates a chance 
of a seat in Congress or of any considerable State office. 

These remarks apply to the true South, and neither to the 
mountain regions, where, owing to the absence of the negro 
element, there is, save in the wider valleys, still a strong 
Republican party, nor to the Border States, Maryland, West 
Virginia, Kentucky and Missouri, in which the coloured voters 
are not numerous enough to excite alarm. When it is desired 



486 ILLUSTRATIONS AND REFLECTIONS part v 

to eliminate their influence on elections, a common plan is to 
bribe them. In Louisville one is told that quite a small pay- 
ment secures abstention. To induce them to vote for a Demo- 
crat is, to their credit be it said, much more costly. 

This horror of negro supremacy is the only point in which 
the South cherishes its old feelings. Hostility to the Northern 
people has almost disappeared. No sooner was Lee's surren- 
der at Appomattox Court House known over the country, than 
the notion of persisting in efforts for secession and the hope 
of maintaining slavery expired. With that remarkable power 
of accepting an accomplished fact which in America is compat- 
ible with an obstinate resistance up to the moment when the 
fact becomes accomplished, the South felt that a new era had 
arrived, to which they must forthwith adapt themselves. They 
were not ashamed of the war. They were and remain proud 
of it, as one may see by the provisions very recently made by 
some States for celebrating the birthday of General Robert E. 
Lee or of Ex-President Jefferson Davis. Just because they 
felt that they had fought well, they submitted with little 
resentment, and it has become a proverb among them that 
the two classes which still cherish bitterness are the two 
classes that did not fight, - — the women and the clergy. Even 
when fresh hostility was aroused by the reconstructive action 
of Congress in 1866 and 1867, and the abuses of carpet-bag 
rule, no one dreamt of renewing the old struggle. Not, how- 
ever, till the whites regained control between 1870 and 1876, 
did the industrial regeneration of the country fairly begin. 
Two discoveries coincided with that epoch which have had an 
immense effect in advancing material prosperity, and changing 
the current of men's thoughts. The first was the exploration 
of the mineral wealth of the highland core of the country. 
In the western parts of Virginia and North Carolina, in the 
eastern parts of Tennessee, the northern parts of Georgia and 
Alabama, both coal and iron, not to speak of other minerals, 
have been found in enormous quantities, and often in such 
close juxtaposition that the production of pig iron and steel 
can be carried on with exceptional cheapness. Thus, Northern 
capital has been drawn into the country : Southern men have 
had a new field for enterprise, and have themselves begun 
to accumulate capital : prosperous industries have been created, 



map. xcii THE SOUTH SINCE THE WAR 187 



and a large working-class population, both white and coloured, 

lias grown up in many places, while the making of new rail- 
ways has not only given employment to the poorer classes, 
but has stimulated manufacture and commerce in other direc- 
tions. The second discovery was that of the possibility of 
extracting oil from the seeds of the cotton plant, which had 
formerly been thrown away, or given to hogs to feed on. The 
production of this oil has swelled to great proportions, making 
the cultivation of cotton far more profitable, and has become 
a potent factor in the extension of cotton cultivation and 
the general prosperity of the country. Most of the crop now 
raised, which averages eight millions of bales, and in 1894 was 
expected to exceed ten millions (being more than double that 
which was raised, almost wholly by slave labour, before the 
war), is now raised by white farmers; while the mills which 
spin and weave it into marketable goods are daily increasing 
and building up fresh industrial communities. The methods 
of agriculture have been improved ; and new kinds of cultiva- 
tion introduced : the raising of fruit, for instance, and espe- 
cially of oranges, has become in certain districts a lucrative 
industry. Xor has the creation of winter health resorts in 
the beautiful mountain land of North Carolina, and further 
south in South Carolina and Florida, been wholly without 
importance, for the Northern people who flock thither learn 
to know the South, and themselves diffuse new ideas among 
the backward population of those districts. Thus from various 
causes there has come to be a sense of stir and movement 
and occupation with practical questions, and what may be 
called a commercialization of society, which has, in some 
places, transformed Southern life. Manual labour is no longer 
deemed derogatory by the poor whites, nor commerce by the 
sons of the old planting aristocracy. Farmers no doubt com- 
plain, as they do everywhere in the United States ; yet it is 
a good sign that the average size of farms has been, in the 
South-eastern States, decreasing, the number of farmers and 
also the number of owners increasing, while the number of 
tenants who pay their rent in money instead of in kind almost 
doubled between 1880 and 1890. As capital, which used to be 
chiefly invested in slaves, has increased and become more gen- 
erally diffused, it is more and more placed in permanent im- 



488 ILLUSTRATIONS AND REFLECTIONS part v 

provements, and especially in city buildings. Cities indeed 
have largely grown and are still growing, especially of course 
in the mining regions ; and in the cities a new middle class has 
sprung up. formed partly by the elevation of the poorer class 
and partly by the depression of the old planting class, which 
has made the contrast between the social equality of Northern 
and the aristocratic tone of Southern society far less marked 
than it was before the war. 

While slavery lasted the South was, except of course as 
regarded the children of planters and of the few merchants, an 
illiterate country. Even in 1870 the South-eastern States had 
only 30 per cent of their population of school age enrolled as 
school attendants, and the South central and western States only 
34 per cent. The Eeconstruction constitutions of 1867-70 con- 
tained valuable provisions for the establishment of schools ; and 
the rise of a new generation, which appreciates the worth of 
education and sees how the North has profited by it, has induced 
a wholesome activity. In 1890, the percentages of children 
enrolled to school age population had risen to 59 and 62 in the 
South-east and South-west respectively. 1 It is no doubt true 
that the sum expended on schools is very unequal in the various 
States, — Arkansas, for instance, spends twice as much as North 
Carolina, though her State debt is twice as great, and her wealth, 
per capita of children, about the same; true, also, that the ex- 
penditure is much less than in the North or West, — Iowa, for 
instance, spends five times as much as Arkansas, with only 
twice as much wealth ; — true, further, that the number of days 
of attendance by each pupil in the year is much smaller in the 
Southern States (62-2 in the South-eastern States, 56*2 in the 
South central and western, as compared with 109 in the North- 
eastern States). Still the progress is great, when one consid- 
ers the comparative poverty of the Southern States, and the 
predominantly rural character of their very sparse population. 

1 Report of the Commissioner of Education for 1890-91. The census returns 
of 1890 give 1,333,395 white pupils enrolled out of a total white population of 
5,592,149 in the South-eastern States, and in the South central and western 
States, 1,876,172 white pupils to a total white population of 7,487,576. The 
proportion of coloured pupils to population is of course smaller. See the fig- 
ures given in next chapter. 

" School age " is taken in the United States as covering the years from 5 to 
18 inclusive. 



jhap.xcu TI1K SOUTH SINCE THE AVAR 489 



Any one seeking tq disparage the South need not want foi 
points to dwell upon. Be might remark that illiteracy is far 
more common than in the North or West; that there is little 
reading even among those who can read, — one need only walk 
through the streets of a Southern city and look into the few 
bookstores to be convinced of this, — and far less of that kind 
of culture which is represented by lecture courses or by liter- 
ary and scientific journals and societies. He would observe 
that hotels, railway stations, refreshment-rooms, indeed all the 
material appliances of travelling comfort in which the North 
shines, are on a far lower level, and that the scattered population 
so neglects its roads that they are often impassable. Life, he 
might say, is comparatively rough, except in a few of the 
older cities, such as Richmond and Charleston ; it has in many 
regions the character of border life in a half-settled country. 
And above all, he might dilate upon the frequency of homicide, 
and the small value that seems to be set upon human life, if 
one may judge from the imperfect and lenient action of the 
courts, which, to be sure, is often supplemented by private 
vengeance. Yet to the enumeration of these and other faults 
born of slavery and the spirit which slavery fostered, it would 
be rightly answered that the true way to judge the former slave 
States, is to compare them as they are now with what they were 
when the war ended. Everywhere there is progress ; in some 
regions such progress, that one may fairly call the South a 
new country. The population is indeed unchanged, for few 
settlers come from the Xorth, and no part of the United States 
has within the present century received so small a share of 
European immigration. 1 Slavery was a fatal deterrent while 
it lasted, and of late years the climate, the presence of the 
negro, and the notion that work was more abundant elsewhere, 
have continued to deflect in a more northerly direction the 
stream that flows from Europe. But the old race, which is, 
except in Texas (where there is a small Mexican and a larger 
German element) and in Louisiana, a pure English and Scoto- 
Irish race, full of natural strength, has been stimulated and in- 
vigorated by the changed conditions of its life. It sees in the 
mineral and agricultural resources of its territory a prospect 

1 In North Carolina the foreign born are only .2 of the population, in Missis- 
sippi only .6. 



490 ILLUSTRATIONS AND REFLECTIONS party 

of wealth and population rivalling those of the Middle and 
Western States. It has recovered its fair share of influence in 
the national government. It has no regrets over slavery, for 
it recognizes the barbarizing influence that slavery exerted. 
Neither does it cherish any dreams of separation. It has now a 
pride in the Union as well as in its State, and is in some ways 
more fresh and sanguine than the North, because less cloyed 
by luxury than the rich are there, and less discouraged by the 
spread of social unrest than the thoughtful have been there. 
But for one difficulty, the South might well be thought to be 
the most promising part of the Union, that part whose advance 
is likely to be swiftest, and whose prosperity will be not the 
least secure. 

This difficulty, however, is a serious one. It lies in the 
presence of seven millions of negroes. 



CHAPTER XCIII 

PRESENT AND FUTURE OF THE NEGRO 

The total coloured population of the United States was in 
1890 7.470,040, a number greater than that of the English 
people in the reign of Queen Anne, and one which might any- 
where but in North America be deemed to form a considerable 
nation. Of this total, seven millions (in round numbers) were 
in the old Slave States, and it is of these only that the present 
chapter will speak. 1 To understand their distribution in these 
States, the reader will do well to recall what was said in the 
last preceding chapter regarding the physical features of the 
South, for it is by those features that the growth of the 
coloured population in the various regions of the country has 
been determined. Though man is of all animals, except perhaps 
the dog. that which shows the greatest capacity for supporting 
all climates from Borneo to Greenland, it remains true that 
certain races of men thrive and multiply only in certain 
climates. As the races of Northern Europe have been hitherto 
unable to maintain themselves in the torrid zone, so the 
African race, being of tropical origin, dwindles away wherever 
it has to encounter cold winters. In what used to be called 
the Border States — Maryland, Kentucky, and Missouri — the 
coloured element increases but slowly, or tends slightly to 
decrease. 2 In West Virginia, East Kentucky, East Tennessee, 
and Western Xorth Carolina, the negro is practically un- 
known in the highest and coolest spots, and in the other parts 
of that elevated country has scarcely been able to hold his 
own. It is in the low warm regions that lie near the Gulf 
Stream and the Gulf of Mexico, and especially in the sea- 
islands of South Carolina and on the banks of the lower Miss- 
issippi that he finds the conditions which are at once most 

1 The total white population of these States was in 1890 13,079,725 and the 
coloured 6,741, 941. 

- Kentucky shows a small decrease from 1880 to 1890. There is also an ab- 
solute decrease of coloured population in seven other States, — Maine, New 
Hampshire, Vermont, Michigan, Nevada, California, Idaho,— and in Arizona. 

491 



492 ILLUSTRATIONS AND REFLECTIONS part v 

favourable to his development and most unfavourable to that 
of the whites. Accordingly it is the eight States nearest the 
Gulf, — South Carolina, Georgia, Florida, Alabama, Mississippi, 
Louisiana, Arkansas, and Texas, that contain more than half 
the negro population, which in three of them, South Carolina, 
Mississippi, and Louisiana, exceeds the number of the whites. 
These eight States show an increase of the coloured population, 
from 1880 to 1890, at the rate of 19.1 per cent, 1 while in the 
rest of the South the rate was only 5.5 per cent. It is thus 
clear that the negro centre of population is more and more 
shifting southward, and that the African is leaving the colder, 
higher, and drier lands for regions more resembling his ancient 
seats in the Old World. 

A not less important question is the proportion between the 
negroes and the whites. In 1790 the negroes were 19.3 per 
cent or nearly one-fifth of the whole population of the Union. 
In 1880 they were 13.1 per cent; in 1890 11.9 per cent, or 
considerably less than one-eighth. Their rate of increase over 
the whole country in the last decade was 13.11, while that 
of the whites was 26.68. Even in the former Slave States 
(which receive very few immigrants from Europe) the increase 
of the whites during that decade was 24.67, that of the negroes 
only 13.9 per cent, or little more than half the rate shown 
by the whites, 2 while in the eight black States mentioned 
above the percentage of increase of the white population is 
29.63, that of the negroes only 19.10. It thus appears that 
except in certain parts of these eight States, where physical 
conditions favourable to the growth of the coloured popu- 
lation prevail, the whites increase everywhere faster than the 
negroes, and the latter constitute a relatively decreasing ele- 
ment. 3 This fact, though suspected previously, has been placed 
beyond doubt by the census of 1890. It is the dominating fact 
of the political and social situation. 

1 It was still greater in Arkansas (47.73 per cent), Florida (31.56 per cent), 
and Texas (25.28 per cent) , but the negroes have been in these three States 
much less numerous than the whites, and the increase is probably largely due 
to negro immigration from other States. 

2 Arkansas and Mississippi are the only States which show a greater in- 
crease of coloured than of white people ; and in the former State, possibly 
in the latter also, immigration accounts for part of the increase. I take the 
above figures from Census Bulletin, No. 48. 

3 That which specially tends to keep down the negro increase is the very 
large mortality among the children. 



chap, xcm PRESENT AM) FUTURE <>K THE NEGRO 493 



Of the economic and industrial state of the whole seven 
millions it is hard to speak in general terms, so different are 
the conditions which different parts of the country present. 

In one point only are those conditions uniform. Everywhere, 
alike in the Border States and in the farthest South, in the 
eities. both great and small, and in the rural districts, the 
coloured population constitute the poorest and socially lowest 
stratum, corresponding in this respect to the new immigrants 
m the Northern States, although, as we shall presently observe, 
they are far more sharply and permanently divided, than are 
those immigrants from the classes above them. They furnish 
nine-tenths of the unskilled labour, and a still larger propor- 
tion of the domestic and hotel labour. Some, though a com- 
paratively small number, have found their way into the skilled 
handicrafts, such as joinery and metal work; and many are 
now employed in the mines and iron foundries of South-eastern 
Tennessee and Northern Alabama, where they receive wages 
sometimes equal to those paid to the white workmen, and are 
even occasionally admitted to the same trade-unions. 1 In tex- 
tile factories they are deemed decidedly inferior to the whites ; 
the whirr of the machinery is said to daze them or to send 
them to sleep. On the other hand, they handle tobacco better 
than the whites, and practically monopolize this large industry. 
In all the cities a great part of the small retail trade is in 
their hands, as are also such occupations as those of barber, 
shoe-black, street vendor of drinks or. fruit, together Avith the 
humbler kinds of railway service. In the rural districts the 
immense majority are either hired labourers or tenants of 
small farms, the latter class becoming more numerous the 
further south one goes into the hot and malarious regions, 
where the Avhite man is less disposed to work on his own land. 
Of these tenants many — and some are both active and thrifty 
— cultivate upon a system of crop-sharing, like that of the 
m&ayers in France. Not a few have bought plots of land, 
and work it for themselves. Of those who farm either their 
own land or that for which they pay rent, an increasing num- 

1 I find it stated (1893) that in West Tennessee the average pay per day 
of the skilled white labourer is S2.")0, of the coloured $1.60; and conceive that 
this may fairly represent the proportion in most trades, though perhaps less 
in mining than in some others. A large employer of labour in Virginia assured 
me in 1890 that be paid some of his negroes (inni-workers) as much as .--1 ,50 
per day. He added that they worked along with the whites, and drank less. 



494 ILLUSTRATIONS AND REFLECTIONS part v 

ber are raising crops for the market, and steadily improving 
their condition. Others, however, are content with getting 
from the soil enough food to keep their families ; and this is 
more especially the case in the lower lands along the coast, 
where the population is almost wholly black, and little affected 
by the influences either of commerce or of the white race. 
In these hot lowlands the negro lives much as he lived on the 
plantations in the old days, except that he works less, because 
a moderate amount of labour produces enough for his bare 
subsistence. No railway comes near him. He sees no news- 
paper : he is scarcely at all in contact with any one above his 
own condition. Thus there are places, the cities especially, 
where the negro is improving industrially, because he has to 
work hard and comes into constant relation with the whites ; 
and other places, where he need work very little, and where, 
being left to his own resources, he is in danger of relapsing 
into barbarism. These differences in his material progress 
in different parts of the country must be constantly borne in 
mind when one attempts to form a picture of his present 
intellectual and moral state. 

The phenomena he presents in this latter aspect are abso- 
lutely new in the annals of the world. History is a record 
of the progress towards civilization of races originally bar- 
barous. But that progress has in all previous cases been slow 
and gradual. In the case of the chief Asiatic and European 
races, the earlier stages are lost in the mists of antiquity. 
Even the middle and later stages, as we gather them from the 
writings of the historians of antiquity and from the records 
of the Dark and Middle Ages, show an advance in which 
there is nothing sudden or abrupt, but rather a process of 
what may be called tentative development, the growth and 
enlargement of the human mind resulting in and being accom- 
panied by a gradual improvement of political institutions and 
of the arts and sciences. In this process there are no leaps 
and bounds; and it is the work, not of any one race alone, but 
of the mingled rivalry and co-operation of several. Utterly 
dissimilar is the case of the African negro, caught up in and 
whirled along with the swift movement of the American de- 
mocracy. In it we have a singular juxtaposition of the most 
primitive and the most recent, the most rudimentary and the 
most highly developed, types of culture. Not greater is the 



OHAP.zcni PRESENT AND FUTURE OF THE NEGRO UK 

interval which separates the chipped flints of the Stone 1$ 
from the Maxim gun of to-day. A body of Bavages is vio- 
lently carried across the ocean and set to work as slaves on 
the plantations of masters who are three or four thousand 
- in advance of them in mental capacity and moral force. 
They are treated like horses or oxen, are kept at labour by the 
lash, are debarred from even the elements of education, have 
no more status before the law, no more share in the thought 
or the culture of their owner than the sheep which he shears. 
The children and grandchildren of those whom the slave-ship 
brought to the plantation remain like their parents, save indeed 
that they have learnt a new and highly developed tongue and 
have caught up so much of a new religion as comes to them 
through preachers of their own blood. Those who have house- 
work to do, or who live in the few and small towns, pick up 
some knowledge of white ways, and imitate them to the best of 
their power. But the great mass remain in their notions and 
their habits much what their ancestors were in the forests of 
the Niger or the Congo. Suddenly, even more suddenly than 
they were torn from Africa, they find themselves, not only 
freed, but made full citizens and active members of the most 
popular government the world has seen, treated as fit to bear 
an equal part in ruling, not themselves only, but also their 
recent masters. Rights which the agricultural labourers of 
England did not obtain till 1885 were in 1867 thrust upon 
these children of nature, whose highest form of pleasure had 
hitherto been to caper to the strains of a banjo. 

This tremendous change arrested one set of influences that 
were tilling on the negro, and put another set in motion. The 
relation of master and servant came to an end, and with it the 
discipline of compulsory labour and a great part of such inter- 
course as there had been between the white and the black 
races. Very soon the whites began to draw away from the 
negro, who became less a friend in fact the more he was an 
equal in theory. Presently the mixture of blood stopped, a 
mixture which had been doing something for the blacks in 
leavening their mass, — only slightly on the plantations, but to 
some extent in the towns and among the domestic servants, — 
with persons of superior energy and talent. On the other 
hand, there were immediately turned on the freedman a vol- 
ume of new forces which had scarcely affected him as a slave. 



496 ILLUSTRATIONS AND REFLECTIONS part v 

He had now to care for himself, in sickness and in health. 
He might go where he would, and work as much or as little as 
he pleased. He had a vote to give, or to sell. Education 
became accessible ; and facilities for obtaining it were promptly 
accorded to him, first by his Northern liberators, but soon by 
his old masters also. As he learned to read and to vote, a 
crowd of modern American ideas, political, social, religious, 
and economic, poured in upon him through the newspapers. 
No such attempt has ever been made before to do for a race at 
one stroke what in other times and countries nature has spent 
centuries in doing. Other races have desired freedom and a 
share in political power. They have had to strive, and their 
efforts have braced and disciplined them. But these things 
were thrust upon the negro, who found himself embarrassed 
by boons he had not thought of demanding. 

To understand how American ideas work in an African brain, 
and how American institutions are affecting African habits, one 
must consider what are the character and gifts of the negro 
himself. 

He is by nature affectionate, docile, pliable, submissive, and 
in these respects most unlike the Red Indian, whose conspic- 
uous traits are pride and a certain dogged inflexibility. He is 
seldom cruel or vindictive, — which the Indian often is, — nor is 
he prone to violence, except when spurred by lust. His intelli- 
gence is rather quick than solid ; and though not wanting in a 
sort of shrewdness, he shows the childishness as well as the lack 
of self -control which belongs to the primitive peoples. A nature 
highly impressionable, emotional, and unstable is in him appro- 
priately accompanied by a love of music, while for art he has — 
unlike the Red Indian — no taste or turn whatever. Such 
talent as he has runs to words ; he learns languages easily and 
writes and speaks fluently, but shows no capacity for abstract 
thinking, for scientific inquiry, or for any kind of invention. 
It is, however, not so conspicuously on the intellectual side that 
his weakness lies, as in the sphere of will and action. Having 
neither foresight nor " roundsight," he is heedless and unthrifty, 
easily elated and depressed, with little tenacity of purpose, ami 
but a feeble wish to better his condition. Sloth, like that into 
which the negroes of the Antilles have sunk, cannot be generally 
charged upon the American coloured man, partly perhaps be- 
cause the climate is less enervating and nature less bountiful. 



chap, xcm PRESENT AND FUTURE OF THE NEGRO 407 



Although not so steady a workman as is the white, he is Less 
troublesome to his employers, because less disposed to strike. 
It is by his toil that a Large part of the cotton, rice, and sugar 
crop of the South is now raised. But any one who knows the 
laborious ryot or coolie of the East Indies is struck by the 
difference between a race on which ages of patient industry 
have left their stamp and the volatile children of Africa. 

Among the modes or avenues in and by which the influences 
of white America are moulding the negro, five deserve to be 
specially noted, those of the schools, of the churches, of litera- 
ture, of industry, and of business or social relations. 

Looking merely at the figures, elementary education would 
seem to have made extraordinary progress. In the former Slave 
States there are now 52 per cent of the coloured population of 
Bchool age enrolled on the books of some school, the percentage 
of white pupils to the white population of school age in the same 
States being 67, and the percentage of enrolments to population 
over the whole United States 69. 1 In these States the coloured 
people are 30.98 per cent of the total population, and the coloured 
pupils 27.37 per cent of the total school enrolments. A smaller 
percentage of them than of white children is, therefore, on the 
books of the schools ; but when it is remembered that thirty- 
five years ago only an infinitesimally small percentage were at 
school at all, and that in many States it was a penal offence to 
teach a negro to read, the progress made is remarkable. Be- 
tween 1877 and 1889, while the white pupils in the common 
schools of the South increased 70 per cent, the coloured pupils 
increased 113 per cent. It must not, however, be concluded 
from these figures that nearly the whole of the coloured popu- 
lation are growing up possessed even of the rudiments of edu- 
cation. The ratio of attendance to school enrolment is, indeed, 
almost as good for the negroes as for the whites (62.14 against 
62.48), the negroes, both parents and children, having a desire 
for instruction. But the school-terms are so short in most of 
the Southern States — the average number of days' schooling 
in the year for each pupil being only 100 for the South-eastern 
States, and 95 for the South-western against 168 in the North- 
eastern — that a large number of whites and a still larger num- 
ber of coloured children receive too little teaching to enable 
them to read and write with ease. Thus out of 4,759,040 

1 Report of the Commissioner of Education for 1890-91. 
\.>I,. II 2 K 



498 ILLUSTRATIONS AND REFLECTIONS part v 

negroes in the old Slave States over ten years of age, 2,887,826, 
or nearly 61 per cent, are returned as illiterates. 1 That the 
amount of higher education — seminary, collegiate, or univer- 
sity education — obtained by the negroes is not only absolutely 
small, but incomparably smaller than that obtained by the 
whites, is no more than might be expected from the fact that 
they constitute the poorest part of the population. The total 
number of institutions of this description was in 1891 as fol- 
lows : 2 — 



Normal schools, 




52, with 


10,042 pupils. 


Secondary schools, 




47, with 


11,837 pupils. 


Universities and colleges, 3 




25, with 


8396 pupils. 


Schools of theology, 




25, with 


755 pupils. 


Schools of law, 




5, with 


121 pupils. 


Schools of medicine, dentistry, 


pharmacy, 


5, with 


306 pupils. 


Schools for the deaf and dumb and the blind 


, 16, with 


536 pupils. 



These universities are, of course, on a comparatively hum- 
ble scale, and most of them might rather be called secondary 
schools. To these figures I may add that the grants made by 
the State governments to common schools — in the South it is 
usually from the State treasury and not from local taxation 
that school funds are derived — are generally distributed equally 
to white and to coloured schools : a circumstance which appears 
the more creditable to the good feeling and wisdom of the 
ruling whites when it is remembered that since they hold nearly 
all the property, they pay by far the larger part of the taxes, 
State and local. These funds, however, nearly all go to elemen- 
tary education, and the institutions which provide higher educa- 
tion for the negro are quite unequal to the demands made upon 
them. Swarms of applicants for admission have to be turned 
away from the already over-crowded existing upper and normal 
schools and colleges ; and thus the supply of qualified teachers 
for the coloured schools is greatly below the needs of the case. 
The total number is at present only 24,150, with 1,324,937 
pupils to deal with. In the white schools, with 3,539,670 

1 Abstract of the census of 1890, Table 14. 

The proportion of illiterates is highest in South Carolina (64.1 per cent), 
Georgia (67.3), Alabama (69.1), and Louisiana (72.1) ; lowest in the District of 
Columbia(35), and Oklahoma (39.2). The Territory of Oklahoma was not a 
Slave State, but its negro population (only 2,290 over ten years of age) is very 
small, and consists of negroes who have recently arrived from the older South. 

2 Report of the Commissioner of Education for 1890 91. p. 1962. 

3 Including preparatory and primary departments of universities. 



cnxv. xcm PRESENT AND Fl'TlKE OF THE NE(JK<) 100 



pupils, there are 79,062 teachers, a proportion (about 1 teacher 
to 1 1 pupils) obviously much too low, and too low even if we 
allow for the difference between enrolment and attendance. 
But the proportion in the coloured schools is lower still (1 to 
53), and the teachers themselves arc less instructed. The need 
for secondary and normal schools is, therefore, still urgent, 
though much has been and is being done by Northern benevo- 
lence for this admirable purpose. 1 There is something pathetic 
in the eagerness of the negroes, parents, young people, and 
children, to obtain instruction. They seem to think that the 
want of it is what keeps them below the whites, just as in the 
riots which broke out in South Carolina during Sherman's in- 
vasion, the negro mob burnt a library at Columbia because, as 
they said, it was from the books that "the white folks got 
their sense." And they have a notion (which, to be sure, is 
not confined to them) that it is the want of book-learning 
which condemns the vast bulk of their race to live by manual 
labor, and that, therefore, by acquiring such learning they 
may themselves rise in the industrial scale. 

In the days of slavery, religion was practically the only 
civilizing influence which told upon the plantation hands. 
But religion, like everything else that enters the mind, is con- 
ditioned by the mental state of the recipient. Among the 
negroes, it took a highly emotional and sensational form, in 
which there was little apprehension of doctrine and still less 
of virtue, while physical excitement constantly passed into 
ecstasy, hysterics, and the other phenomena which accompany 
what are called in America camp-meetings. This form it has 
hitherto generally retained. The evils have been palpable, but 
the good has been greater than the evil ; and one fears to con- 
jecture what this vast mass of Africans might have been had 
no such influence been at work to soften and elevate them, 
and to create a sort of tie between them and their masters. 
Christianit} r , however, has been among the negroes as it often 
was in the Dark Ages and as it is in some countries even to- 
day, widely divorced from morality. The negro preachers, the 
natural and generally the only leaders of their people, are 

1 Among thegreal benefactions whose income is applied for the education 
of the coloured people special mention may he made of the Peabody Fond, the 
John F. Slater Fund, and the Daniel Hand Fund, all of which seem to he very 
wisely administered. I find the total annual sum given by the North to nor- 
mal and collegiate education among the negroes estimated at a million dollars. 



500 ILLUSTRATIONS AND REFLECTIONS 



(doubtless with noble exceptions) by no means a model class, 
while through the population at large religious belief and even 
religious fervour are found not incompatible with great laxity 
in sexual relations and a proneness to petty thefts. Fortu- 
nately, here also there is evidence of improvement. The 
younger pastors are described as being more rarely lazy and 
licentious than were those of the older generation ; their 
preaching appeals less to passion and more to reason. As it 
is only coloured preachers who reach negro congregations, the 
importance of such an improvement can hardly be overesti- 
mated. 1 There is, of course, an enormous difference between 
the coloured churches in the cities, especially those of the 
Border States, where one finds a comparatively educated clergy 
and laity, with ideas of decorum modelled on those of their 
white neighbours, and the pure negro districts further south, 
in some of which, as in parts of Louisiana, not merely have the 
old superstitions been retained, but there has been a marked 
relapse into the Obeah rites and serpent worship of African 
heathendom. How far this has gone no one can say. There 
are parts of the lower Mississippi valley as little explored, so 
far as the mental and moral condition of the masses is con- 
cerned, as are the banks of the Congo and the Benue. 

From what has been said of the state of education, it will 
have been gathered that the influence of books is confined to 
extremely few, and that even of newspapers to a small fraction 
of the coloured people. Nevertheless, the significance of what- 
ever forms the mind of that small fraction must not be under- 
estimated. The few thousands who read books or magazines, 

1 Mr. Philip A. Bruce says (Atlantic Monthly for June, 1892, p. 732) : " The 
improvement of the character of the negro preachers is even more important 
than the improvement of the character of negro teachers ; but it is an end more 
difficult to reach because the preachers cannot be submitted after admission 
to an ordeal that tests their fitness for the positions to be filled." 

Mr. Bruce's book, The Plantation Negro as a Freeman (1889) , presents a 
striking, though perhaps too gloomy a picture, of the condition of the race. 

Dr. Curry, who knows the South thoroughly and has so admirably adminis- 
tered the Slater Fund, says, " One of the chief drawbacks to civilization in the 
negro race is the exceeding difficulty of giving a predominant ethical character 
to his religion. In the Black Belt, religion and virtue are often considered as 
distinct and separable things. The moral element, good character, is eliminated 
from the essential ingredients of Christianity, and good citizenship, womanli- 
ness, honesty, truth, chastity, cleanliness, trustworthiness are not always of 
the essence of religious obligation. An intelligent, pious, courageous ministry 
is indispensable to any hopeful attempt to lift up the negro race." — Atlantic 
Monthly for June, 1892, p. 732. 



chap, xein PRESENT AND FITIKK OF THE Nl-XiKO 501 



the few tens of thousands who see a daily paper, acquire the 

ideas and beliefs and aspirations of the normal white citizen, 
subject of course to the inherent differences in race character 
already referred to. They are in a sense more American than 
the recent immigrants from Central Europe and from Italy, 
who are now a substantial element in the population of the 
Middle and Western States. Within this small section of the 
coloured people are the natural leaders of the millions who have 
not yet attained to what may be called the democratic American 
consciousness. And the number of those upon whom books 
and newspapers play, in whom democratic ideas stimulate dis- 
content with the present inferiority of their people, is steadily, 
and in some districts, rapidly increasing. The efforts of those 
who are best fitted to lead have been hitherto checked by the 
jealousy which the mass is apt to feel for those who rise to 
prominence ; but this tendency may decline, and there will be 
no reason for surprise if men of eloquence and ambition are one 
day found to give voice to the sentiments of their brethren 
as Frederick Douglass did. 1 

The influence of industry is another name for the influence of 
self-help. As a slave, the negro was no doubt taught to give 
steady, though unintelligent, labour ; and this was probably a 
step forward from his condition in Africa. But labour all of it 
performed under supervision, and none of it followed by any 
advantage to the labourer except relief from the lash, labour 
whose aim was to accomplish not the best possible but the least 
that would suffice, did nothing to raise the character or to train 
the intelligence. Every day's work that the negro has done 
since he became a f reedman has helped him. Most of the work is 
rough work, whether on the land or in the cities, and is done for 
low wages. But the number of those who, either as owners or as 
tenant farmers, raise their own crops for the market, and of 
those who are finding their way into skilled employments, is an 
always increasing number. I have seen it stated that in 1892 
the Southern negroes paid taxes on property valued at more 
than $ 14,000,000, practically all of which has been acquired 
since 1865. To raise crops for the market is an education in 
thrift, foresight, and business aptitude, as well as in agricul- 

1 1 remember to have listened to a striking speech by a negro in Richmond 
Id which he appealed to the historic glories of the State of Virginia, and sought 
to rouse the audience by reminding them that they too were Virginians. 



502 ILLUSTRATIONS AND REFLECTIONS pakt v 

ture ; to follow a skilled industry is to train the intelligence 
as well as the hand, and the will as well as the intelligence. 
There is, unfortunately, very little provision for the instruction 
of the young negroes in any handicraft, and the need of means 
for imparting it is even more urgent than is that of secondary 
schools. It is satisfactory to know that the necessity is begin- 
ning to be recognized, and some effort made to provide indus- 
trial training. Dr. W. T. Harris observes with perfect truth : — 

"With better industrial habits there comes a better style of living. 
Though most of the negroes still live in rude cabins, no better than the 
huts which served them as slaves, they who own or rent land have begun to 
erect decent houses, and furnish them with taste, while in the suburbs of 
a city the negro tradesman has sometimes as neat a villa as the white of 
like occupation, though generally obliged to inhabit the coloured quarter." 

Against the industrial progress of the negro there must be 
set two depressing phenomena. One is the increase of insanity, 
very marked during the last few decades, and probably attrib- 
utable to the increased facilities which freedom has given for 
obtaining liquor, and to the stress which independence and 
education have imposed on the undeveloped brain of a back- 
ward race. The other, not unconnected with the former, is 
the large amount of crime. Most of it is petty crime, chiefly 
thefts of hogs and poultry, but there are also a good many 
crimes against women. Seventy per cent of the convicts in 
Southern jails are negroes; 1 and though one must allow for 
the fact that they are the poorest part of the population and 
that the law is probably more strictly enforced against them 
than against the whites, this is a proportion double that of 
their numbers. 2 Even in the District of Columbia more than 
half the arrests are among the coloured people, though they 
are only one third of the inhabitants. 

1 The South is still far behind the North in matters of prison management. 
Convicts, and sometimes white as well as coloured convicts, are in many 
States hired out to private employers or companies for rough work, and very 
harshly treated. 

2 It must however be observed that in the rest of the Union (North East, 
North Central and West), the proportion of prisoners in the jails is much 
higher among the foreign born than in the population at large, doubtless 
because they are the poorest class. The foreign born are 20 per cent of the 
population and constitute 37 per cent of the prisoners. The foreign born and 
children of foreign parents, taken together, constitute 4 ( J per cent of the 
prisoners. 



chap, xoin PRESENT AND FUTURE OF THE NEGRO 608 

The most potent agency in the progress of the humbler and 

more ignorant sections of a community has always been their 
intercourse with those who are more advanced. In the United 

States it is by their social eonmiixtiire with the native eitizens 
that European immigrants become so quickly assimilated, the 
British in two or three years, the Germans and Scandinavians 
in eight or ten. But the pre-condition of such commixture is 
the absence of race repulsion and especially the possibility of 
intermarriage. In the case of the American negro, the race 
repulsion exists, and fusion by intermarriage is deemed impos- 
sible. The day of his liberation was also the day when the 
whites began to shun intercourse with him, and when opinion 
began to condemn, not merely regular marriage with a person 
of colour, for that had been always forbidden, but even an 
illicit union. 

To understand the very peculiar phenomena which mark the 
relations of the two races, one must distinguish between the 
Northern and Southern States. 

In the North there was before the war a marked aversion to 
the negro and a complete absence of social intercourse with 
him. The negroes were, of course, among the poorest and least 
educated persons in the community. But the poorest white 
looked down upon them just as much as the richest ; and in 
many States they enjoyed no political rights. The sympathy 
felt for them during the Civil War, the evidence of courage 
and capacity for discipline they gave as soldiers in the Federal 
Army, and the disposition to protect them which the Republi- 
can party showed during the Reconstruction period, have modi- 
fied this aversion ; and they have now comparatively little to 
complain of in the North. They are occasionally admitted to 
some inferior political office, or even to a seat in a State legis- 
lature. The Women's Christian Temperance Union receives 
them as members, and so does the Grand Army of the Republic, 
though they are grouped in distinct " posts." People some- 
times take pleasure in going out of their way to compliment 
them. A few years ago, for instance, a coloured student 
was chosen by his companions at Harvard University to be 
the -class orator" of the year; and I know of cases in which 
the lawyers of a city have signed memorials recommending 
a coloured barrister for appointment to an important Federal 
office. Nevertheless, there is practically no social intermix- 



504 ILLUSTRATIONS AND REFLECTIONS part v 

ture of white and coloured people. Except on the Pacific 
coast, a negro never sits down to dinner with a white man, 
in a railway refreshment-room. You never encounter him at a 
private party. He is not received in a hotel of the better 
sort, no matter how rich he may be. He will probably be 
refused a glass of soda water at a drug store. He is not shaved 
in a place frequented by white men, not even by a barber of 
his own colour. He worships in a church of his own. No 
native white woman would dream of receiving his addresses. 
Nor does it make any difference that he is three parts or seven 
parts white, if the stain of colour can be still discerned. 
Kindly condescension is the best he can look for, accompanied 
by equality of access to a business or profession. Social equal- 
ity is utterly out of his reach. 

In the South, on the other hand, the whites had before the 
war no sense of personal repulsion from the negro. The do- 
mestic slave was in the closest relation with his master's family. 
Sometimes he was his master's trusted friend. The white child 
grew up with the black child as its playmate. The legal in- 
equality was so immense that familiarity was not felt to involve 
any disturbance of the attitude of command. With emancipa- 
tion there must needs come a change ; but the change would 
have come more gently, and left a better relation subsisting, 
had it not been for the unhappy turn which things took in the 
Reconstruction period under the dominance of the negro vote. 
The white people were then thoroughly frightened. They 
thought that the aim of the North was to force them to admit 
not only the civic but the social equality of the freedmen, and 
they resolved, if one can apply the language of deliberate 
purpose to what was rather an unconscious and uncontrollable 
impulse, to maintain the social inferiority of the negro as well 
as to exclude him from political power. They are accustomed 
to say, and to believe, that they know him better and like him 
better than the Northern people do. That there is not among 
the educated whites of the South any hostility to the race as 
a race is true enough. The sons of the planters, and of the 
better class generally, have kindly recollections of their former 
slaves, and get on well with their negro servants and workmen; 
while among the elder freedmen there is still a loyal attach- 
ment to the children of their former masters. The poor whites, 
however, dislike the negroes, resent the slightest assumption 



chap, xcin PRESENT AND FUTURE OK TI1K NEGRO 606 



of equality on the part of the latter, 1 and show their hatred by 
violence, sometimes even by ferocity, when any disturbance 
arises or when a negro fugitive has to be pursued. Except so 
far as it is involved in domestic service, the servants in the 
South being nearh all negroes, there is now little intercourse 
between whites and blacks. In many States the law requires 
the railroad and even the horse-car companies to provide 
separate ears for the latter, though there are cities, such as 
Baltimore and Washington, where the same horse-cars are 
used by both races. In most parts of the South a person 
of colour cannot enter a public refreshment-room used 
by the whites except as the servant of a white; and one 
may see the most respectable and, possibly, even educated 
coloured woman, perhaps almost white, forced into the coloured 
car among rough negroes, while the black nurse in charge 
of a white child is admitted to the white car. The two races 
are everywhere taught in distinct schools and colleges, though 
in one or two places negroes have been allowed to study in the 
medical or law classes. They worship in different churches. 
Though they read the ordinary papers, they also support 
distinct organs for coloured men. They have distinct Young 
Mens' Christian Associations. With some exceptions in the 
case of unskilled trades, they are not admitted to trade unions. 2 
In concert halls and theatres, if the coloured are admitted 
at all, it is to an inferior part of the chamber. On the other 
hand, negroes are sometimes called to serve on juries, and civil 
justice seems to be administered quite fairly as between them 
and the whites. 

Intermarriage is, in every State, forbidden by law, and, so 
far as a traveller can ascertain, very few children from parents 
of different bloods are now born. 3 And it must, I fear, be 
added that in some parts of the South a white man would run 
little more risk of being hanged for the murder of a negro than 
a Mussulman in Turkey for the murder of a Christian. 

Under so complete a system of separation, it is clear that the 
influence of social intercourse between whites and blacks, an 

1 A Virginian observed to me, " Our whites don't molest the negroes so long 
as the negroes don't presume! " 

2 Their unions are however admitted to the federation of the Knights of 
Labour. 

3 Mr. Brackett (Proffreu of the Coloured People of Maryland) notes in- 
stances of convictions and imprisonments undei this law in Maryland. 



50G ILLUSTRATIONS AND REFLECTIONS part v 

influence to which the domestic slaves before the war owed 
much, now counts for little. But the question of the attitude 
of the whites has another side. It means more than the sus- 
pension of a civilizing agency. There is evidence to show that 
the coloured generation which has grown up since the war, 
and which has been in less close touch with the white people 
than were the slaves and freedmen of the last generation, is 
much less friendly to them. It has lost the instinctive sense 
of subservience and dependence, and its more educated mem- 
bers feel acutely the contrast between their legal equality and 
their inequality in every other respect. The whites perceive 
this ; and the lower class among them become still more 
suspicious and violent. In this situation there lie possibilities 
of danger. The strained relations of the races appear most fre- 
quently in the lynchings of negroes so often reported from the 
South. It is extremely hard to ascertain the truth of the 
reports regarding these lawless acts, for the newspapers often 
invent horrors, and there is little judicial investigation made 
into those whose reality is undeniable. I cannot vouch for 
the statement which I have read, that in 1892 241 lynchings 
took place in the United States, 200 of which were in the 
South ; and that of the persons put to death 161 were negroes, 
and 80 whites. 1 As might be expected, many exaggerations 
appear and obtain credence in Europe as well as sometimes 
in the North. But there can be no doubt that over the South, 
and, to a much smaller extent, in the North also, negroes 
accused of assassinating white men, or of outraging white 
women or children are frequently seized by white mobs and 
summarily killed ; that occasionally, though probably not often, 
an innocent man perishes, and that the killing is sometimes 
accompanied by circumstances of revolting cruelty. Now and 
then the culprit is burned alive. Often his body, after he 
has been hanged, is riddled with bullets, a piece of barbarism 
akin to the Eastern habit of mutilating the corpses of the slain. 
The excuses offered for these acts are that white women, espe- 
cially in sparsely inhabited regions, are in considerable danger 
from the lust of brutal negroes, and that the swift apprehen- 

1 The Census Bulletin on Homicide (No. 182) states that the county sheriffs 
reported 117 lynchings during the year 1889, of which 94 were in the South. 
Oddly enough this was exactly the number of executions reported from the 
South. These reports, however, are helieved to he incomplete. 



chap, rem PRESENT AND nJTURE OF THE NEGRO 507 

sion and slaughter of the culprit not only strikes greater dread 
than the regular process of justice, but dors not gratify the 
negro's enjoyment of the pomp and ceremony of a formal trial 

before a judge. It is also declared, and with truth, that whites 
also are lynched, though not so frequently and in a less atro- 
cious way. 1 that the negroes themselves occasionally lynch a 
negro, that it is hard lor the executive authority, with no force 
except the militia at its command, to protect prisoners and 
repress disorder, and that the lynchings are the work of a com- 
paratively small and rude part of the white population; the 
better citizens disapproving, but with American nonchalance 
declining to interfere. 

Whatever palliations may be found in these circumstances, 
— and it is quite true that in a thinly peopled and unpoliced 
country white women do stand in serious risk, — there can 
be no doubt that the practice of lynching has a pernicious 
effect on the whites themselves, accustoming them to cruelty, 
and fostering a spirit of lawlessness which tells for evil on 
every branch of government and public life. Were the ne- 
groes less cowed by the superior strength and numbers of 
the whites, reprisals, now rare, would be more frequent. Yet 
even in a race with so little vindictiveness of temper, terri- 
ble mischief is done. The tendency to accept the leadership 
of the whites, and to seek progress rather by industrial and 
educational than by political efforts is damped, and the estab- 
lishment of good feeling and a sense of public security is 
retarded. The humble negro shuns contact with the whites, 
not knowing when some band of roughs may mishandle him ; 
and sometimes a lynching is followed by a sudden rush of 
coloured emigration from the State or district where it has 
happened.- The educated and aspiring negro resents the sav- 
age spirit shown towards his colour, though he feels his help- 
lessness too keenly to attempt any action which could check it. 

This social repulsion and its consequences present a painful 

1 There was, however, an instance two or three years ago, in which the party 
which was hunting for a white murderer announced their intention of burn- 
ing him. I do not know whether he was caught. I have even read in the 
tpers of a ease in which a crowd allowed two women to flog a third to 
death, but this was in a wild mountain region. All the parties were whites. 

- Nut long ago the negroes flocked into the new Territory of Oklahoma, 
hoping to obtain better security for themselves 1))" their presence in consider- 
able numbers. 



508 ILLUSTRATIONS AND REFLECTIONS part v 

contrast to the effect of the four previous influences we have 
examined. As respects their intelligence, their character, their 
habits of industry, the coloured people are making distinct if 
not rapid progress. It is a progress very unequal as regards 
the different regions of the country, and perhaps may not 
extend to some districts of the so-called Black Belt, which 
stretches from the coast of South Carolina across the Gulf 
States. It is most evident in the matter of education, less evi- 
dent as respects religion and the influence of literature. Its 
economic results are perceptible in the accumulation of prop- 
erty by city workmen, in the acquisition of small farms by rural 
cultivators, in the slow, but steady, increase in the number of 
coloured people in the professions of medicine, law, and litera- 
ture. Were it accompanied by a growth of good feeling be- 
tween whites and negroes, and a more natural and friendly 
intercourse between them in business and in social matters, 
the horizon would be bright, and the political difficulties, 
which I shall presently describe, need not cause alarm. This 
intercourse is, however, conspicuously absent. The progress 
of the coloured people has been accompanied by the evolution 
of social classes within their own body. Wealthy and edu- 
cated negroes, such as one may now find in cities like Balti- 
more, Louisville, Richmond, Atlanta, and New Orleans, have 
come to form a cultured group, who are looked up to by the 
poorer class. 1 But these cultured groups are as little in con- 
tact with their white neighbours as are the humblest coloured 
labourers, perhaps even less so. No prospect is open to them, 
whatever wealth or culture they may acquire, of finding an 
entrance into white society, and they are made to feel in a 
thousand ways that they belong to a caste condemned to per- 
petual inferiority. Their spokesmen in the press have lat- 
terly so fully realized the position as to declare that they do 
not seek social equality with the whites, that they are quite 

1 The mulattoes or quadroons are, as a rule, more advanced than the pure 
blacks, and generally avoid intermarriage with the latter. Now and then, 
however, a pure black may be found of remarkable intelligence. Such a one, 
a Louisiana farmer who read, and talked with sense and judgment about, the 
Greek philosophers, is described in the graphic and instructive sketches called 
Studies in the South.— Atlantic Monthly, for February, 1882. At the Hamp- 
ton Normal Institute, the school so admirably worked by a devoted friend of 
the negro, the late Gen. S. C. Armstrong, the award of honours showed that 
the mixed blood was uot so intellectually superior to the full black as has 
been generally supposed. 



chat, xcni PRESENT AND FUTURE OF THE NEGRO 509 

willing to build up a separate society of their own, and 
seek neither intermarriage nor social intercourse, but that 
what they do ask is equal opportunity in business, the profes- 
sions, and polities, equal recognition of the worth of their 
manhood, and a discontinuance of the social humiliations they 
are now compelled to endure. 1 

From this attempt to sketch the phenomena of the present, 
I proceed to consider the future. The future has two problems 
to solve. One is political; the other social. How is the 
determination of the whites to rule to be reconciled with the 
possession by the negroes of equal rights of suffrage ? How 
can the social severance or antagonism of the two races, — by 
whichever term we are to describe it, — the haughty asser- 
tion of superiority by the whites and the suppressed resent- 
ment of the more advanced among the coloured people, be 
prevented from ripening into a settled distrust and hostility 
which may affect the peace and prosperity of the South for 
centuries to come ? 

The methods whereby the negroes have been prevented 
from exercising the rights of suffrage vested in them by law 
have been described in the last preceding chapter. These 
means are now seldom violent ; but whether violent or pacific, 
they have been almost uniformly successful. In the so-called 
Border States, the whites are in so great a majority that they 
do not care to interfere with the coloured vote, except now 
and then by the use of money. Through the rest of the South 
the negro has come to realize that he will not be permitted to 
exercise any influence on the government; and his interest in 
coming to the polls has therefore declined. This is true of all 
sorts of elections, just as the determination of the whites to 
suppress his vote is no less strong as respects Federal elec- 
tions, whose result cannot directly affect the administration of 
State or local affairs, or the imposition of State or local taxes, 
than it is in State and local elections. I have already ex- 
plained that, although contempt for the negro as a citizen has 
some share in this determination, its main cause is the alarm 
so generally felt by the whites at the possibility of negro dom- 
ination. A stranger, whether from the Xorth or from Europe, 
inclines to think this alarm groundless. He perceives that the 

1 See an interesting article by a distinguished coloured clergyman (siuce 
deceased), Dr. J. C. Price, in the Forum, for January, 1891. 



510 ILLUSTRATIONS AND REFLECTIONS part v 

whites have not only the habit of command, but also nearly 
all the property, the intelligence, and the force of character 
which exist in the country. He reminds his Southern hosts 
that the balance even of numbers is inclining more and more 
in their favour ; and that the probability of Northern interven- 
tion on behalf of the excluded negro voter has become, since 
the failure of the Federal Elections Bill of 1890, extremely 
slight, while the other conditions of 1867 can never recur. On 
this point, however, the Southern man is immovable. To him 
it is a simple question of self-preservation. "We like the 
negro," said a leader among them to me some years ago ; " Ave 
know he must stay ; we desire to treat him well. But if he 
votes, we must outvote him." 

The results are in every way unfortunate. The negroes, 
naturally docile and disposed to follow the lead of their white 
employer or neighbour, feel themselves suspected, and live 
in a terror of being stripped of the civic rights which they are 
not suffered to exercise, like the terror which for a time pos- 
sessed them of being thrown back into slavery. So far as 
they vote at all they mostly cling together, and vote solid, 
intimidating or boycotting any one of their number who is 
supposed to be a " bolter." The whites, accustomed to justify 
their use of force or fraud by the plea of necessity, have 
become callous to electoral malpractices. The level of purity 
and honesty in political methods, once comparatively high, 
has declined; and the average Southern conscience is now 
little more sensitive than is that of professional politicians in 
Northern cities. Nor is the mischief confined to elections. 
The existence of this alarm has, by making the negro question 
the capital question in national as well as State politics, 
warped the natural growth of political opinion and political 
parties upon all those other current questions which engage 
the mind of the people, and has to that extent retarded their 
reabsorption into the general political life of the Republic. 

Sensible Southern men feel the evils of the present state of 
things, and seek anxiously for an escape from them. Out of 
the many remedies that have been proposed, three deserve to 
be specially noticed. 

The first is (as proposed in the bill of 1890) to give pro- 
tection to the coloured voter by the action of Federal officers 
backed by Federal troops. This could, of course, be done 



CHAP.XClii PRESENT AND FUTURE OF THE NKGKo 511 



under the Constitution at Federal elections only, and would 
not cover the equally important State and local elections. It 
would, moreover (as the discussions of 1890 showed), provoke 
great exasperation at the South, and might lead to breaches 
of the peace, from which the negroes would be the chief suf- 
ferers. The whole South would resist it, and no small part of 
the Northern people would dislike it. 

A second remedy is to repeal the Fifteenth Amendment to 
the Federal Constitution, and leave each State free to exclude 
negroes from the suffrage. This plan, although sometimes put 
forward by men of ability, is even more impracticable than 
the preceding one. A majority of three-fourths of the States 
could not be secured for the repeal of a provision which the 
Northern people value as sealing one of the main results of 
the Civil War. Nor would the Southern States themselves, 
with their Democratic allies at the North, favour a change 
which would, in disfranchising their negroes, largely reduce 
(under the Fourteenth Amendment) their present vote at 
Presidential and Congressional elections. To repeal the Four- 
teenth Amendment and allow a State to be represented in 
proportion not to its voters but to its population, is, of course, 
out of the question. It may, therefore, be assumed that no 
serious attempt will be made to set up colour as a legal ground 
of discrimination. 

The third suggested scheme is to limit the suffrage by some 
educational or even some pecuniary qualification — although 
American sentiment dislikes a property qualification — which 
will, in fact, exclude many or most of the negroes, not as 
negroes, but because they are ignorant or poor. Such a scheme 
was proposed by Gen. Wade Hampton in South Carolina as far 
back as 1867, but has never yet been tried except in Missis- 
sippi, where the Constitution of 1890 1 provides that a person 
applying to be registered as a voter " shall be able to read any 
section of the Constitution, or be able to understand the same 
when read to him, or to give a reasonable interpretation thereof." 

The advantages of such a method are obvious, and have 
suggested its adoption in a British colony where the presence 
of a large coloured population has raised a problem not dis- 

1 There was one negro member in the Convention that enacted this Consti- 
tution, which was never (be it noted) submitted to the popular vote. See Vol. 
I., p. 433 and p. 485. 



512 ' ILLUSTRATIONS AND REFLECTIONS 



similar to that we have been examining. 1 Recognizing the 
need of knowledge and intelligence for the due. exercise of 
political power, it excludes a large mass of confessedly incom- 
petent persons, while leaving the door open for those negroes 
whose instructed capacity brings them up to the level of the 
bulk of the whites, and who, in some places, may be now from 
one-fourth to one-third of the whole negro population. Thus 
it may operate, not only as an improvement in the electoral 
body, but as an incentive to educational progress. 

The obstacles to the adoption of the plan have, however, 
been serious. One is that in disfranchising their negroes for 
want of education, most Southern States would have also to 
disfranchise no trifling part of their white population, that, 
namely, which is below any educational standard high enough 
to exclude the mass of negroes. The percentage of illiterates 
to the whole population over ten years of age is in the South- 
eastern States 14.5 and in the South-western 15. 2 To expect 
these voters (about 1,412,000) to disfranchise themselves for 
the sake of excluding negroes is to expect too much. The 
other is that every limitation of the suffrage diminishes pro 
tanto (Amendment XIV.) a State's representation in Federal 
elections, thereby weakening its influence in Federal affairs 
and mortifying its self-esteem. The State of Mississippi, while 
courageously facing the latter of these difficulties, so far as the 
coloured people are concerned, has sought to evade the former 
by the ingenious loophole under which the registering officials 
may admit whites who, though illiterate, are able to give a 
"reasonable interpretation" of any section of the Constitu- 
tion. Such whites have, one is told, been able to satisfy the 
officials far more generally than have the negroes. And if 
this particular section happens to be put to them, their com- 
mon sense will find its interpretation obvious. 

Of the three plans suggested, that which would reduce the 
negro vote by the imposition of an educational test will 
appear to the dispassionate observer the safest and the fair- 

1 In Cape Colony the Franchise and Ballot Act of 1892 raises the (previ- 
ously very low) property qualification for the suffrage, and provides (§ 6) 
that no person shall he registered as an elector " unless he is ahle to sign his 
name and write his address and occupation." These provisions disqualify 
the great hulk of the native coloured people, few of whom have, as may he 
supposed, any interest in politics. 

2 Abstract of the census of 1890. Table 14. 



chap.xciii PRESENT AND FUTURE 01 THE NEGRO 513 



est. It casts no slur upon the negro race as a race, and 
does not wear the aspect of a retrogression from the gen- 
erosity with which the suffrage was bestowed. It conforms 
to a principle reasonable in itself, and already adopted by 
some Northern States. If applied as it ought to be, honestly 
to both races alike, it would in most Southern States exclude 
enough negroes to dispel apprehensions of any revolt against 
white government; and it would remove the occasion or ex- 
cuse for that habit of tampering with elections which is not 
merely a scandal, but a grave danger to the political life of 
the South. There is, however, — although some such plan has 
been discussed in Louisiana, — no great present prospect that 
action on these Hues will be taken in other States. The South 
is listless and slow to change. Parts of it are distracted by the 
feud between the old Democrats and the Farmers' Alliance or 
Populist party. The problem does not strike the average citi- 
zen as urgent; nor is it urgent, in the sense that some solution 
must be found before a given date. The habit of breaking or 
evading the law unhappily perpetuates itself by accustoming 
people to think it venial. The most probable forecast is 
that the present system will continue for some time to come, 
the negroes growing less and less interested in their right 
of suffrage, and the whites by degrees losing the apprehen- 
sions that now fill their minds, until at last a new generation 
arises that remembers not the days of Reconstruction. Some 
question may then appear which so divides the whites that 
both parties will see their advantage in capturing the negro 
vote. 1 Each party will try to win it over, and each will get a 
share of it. It may then, having lost its present solidarity, 
be absorbed into the vote of the white parties, whatever they 
then are ; and though it will still be comparatively unin- 
structed and perhaps largely venal, the forcible or fraudulent 
suppression of the last twenty years, with the evils thence 
arising, will have passed away. 

Even graver than the political difficulties which have been 
described is the social problem raised by the coexistence on the 
same soil, under the same free government, of two races so 
widely differing that they do not intermingle. Social disparity 
or social oppression cuts deeper than any political severance ; 

1 Occasionally even now an effort is made to attract the negro vote. I have 
seen it stated that the " Populists " recently tried to do so in Georgia. 
VOL. II 2 L 



.14 ILLUSTRATIONS AND REFLECTIONS 



and time, so far from curing the mischief, seams during the 
last thirty or forty years to have aggravated it. Politics' leave 
untouched large parts of the field of human life, even in the 
United States; and the political inferiority of the coloured 
race, since it is the result of their retarded intellectual develop- 
ment, seems in accord with nature. Social inferiority, which 
is' felt at every moment, and which jars on the sense of human 
brotherhood, is a more serious matter. 

This problem is, moreover, a new one in history, for the 
relations of the ruling and subject races of Europe and Asia 
supply no parallel to it. Whoever examines the records of 
the past, will find that the continued juxtaposition of two races 
has always been followed either by the disappearance of the 
weaker, or by the intermixture of the two. Where race antag- 
onisms still remain, as in parts of Eastern Europe, and on a far 
larger scale in Asia, one may expect a similar solution to be 
ultimately reached. In Transylvania, for instance, Saxons, 
Magyars, and Roumans stand apart from one another, the two 
latter mutually suspicious and politically hostile. So further 
east one finds strong religious antagonisms (not without seri- 
ous attendant evils), such as those of Sunn is, Shiahs, and 
Christians in Western Asia, or of Hindus and Mussulmans in 
India, antagonisms, however, which only partially coincide 
with race differences, and have thrown the latter quite into 
the shade. In all such cases, however, though one race or 
religion may be for the moment dominant, there is no neces- 
sary or permanent distinction between them; and there is, 
if the religious difficulty can be overcome, a possibility of 
intermarriage. Other cases may be suggested where a fusion 
is improbable, as between the British and the natives in India, 
or the colonists and the natives in New Zealand. But the 
European rulers of India are a mere handful in comparison 
with the natives, nor do they settle in India so as to form a 
part of its permanent population ; while as to New Zealand, 
the Maoris, a diminishing body, live apart on their own lands, 
and form a community likely, while it survives, to continue 
distinct. In Western South America the Spanish settlers 
have, to some extent, mingled their blood with that of the 
native Indians, and may ultimately become as much blent with 
the latter as has befallen in Mexico. The peculiar feature 
of the race problem as it presents itself in the United States 



x, in PRESENT AND FUTURE OF THE NEGRO 615 



it the negroes are in many districts one-third or even one 
half of the population, are forced to live in the closest local 
contiguity with the whites, and are for the purposes of indus- 
try indispensable to the latter, yet are so sharply cut off from 
the whites bycolour and all that colour means, that not merely 
a mingling of blood, but any social approximation, is regarded 
with horror, and perpetual severance is deemed a law of 
nature. 

From such a position what issue ? One hears little said in 
America of any possible issue, partly because the nation is 
tired of the whole subject, which has, in one form or another, 
distracted it for more than seventy years, partly because every 
plan that has been suggested is open to patent objections. 
Several, however, may deserve to be mentioned. 

Even long before the war, and often since, it has been pro- 
posed that the negroes should be retransported to Africa. 
The petty and stagnant Republic of Liberia owes its origin 
to the idea that it might furnish a home for Afro-American 
freedmen, and a centre whence they might be dispersed in 
larger and larger numbers through their ancient home. But 
after seventy -three years the population of Liberia of American 
origin is only some 18,000, the million of other inhabitants 
being aborigines, and the unpaid interest on a national debt 
of £100,000 amounts to £133,000. 

There are two fatal objections to the plan of exporting the 
Southern negroes to Africa. One is that they will not go ; the 
other that the whites cannot afford to let them go. There is 
nothing to attract them in the prospect of being uprooted from 
their homes in a country where the comforts of civilization 
are attainable by industry, and thrown upon a new shore, 
already occupied by savages of whose very languages, except 
in the few spots where English is spoken, they are ignorant. 1 
The Southern whites, so far from encouraging, would resist 
their departure ; for it would mean the loss of the labour 
by which more than half the crops of the South are raised, 
and great part of her mining and iron-working industries 
carried on. Much of the country, as too hot for European 
labour, would remain untilled and useless were the negro 

1 A variation of this sncnrestion has been that whilo the pure blacks should 
be exported to Africa, the (usually more advanced) mulattoes and quadroons 

might go to reclaim the Antilles. See An Appeal to Pharaoh ; New York, 18 l .»0. 



516 ILLUSTRATIONS AND REFLECTIONS 



to disappear ; for of the introduction of coolie labour from 
India there can be no talk in a nation which has so strictly- 
forbidden the entrance of Chinese. The negro, in short, is 
essential to the material prosperity of the South, and his 
departure would mean ruin to it. Even now, the Atlantic 
States do what they can to prevent their coloured labourers 
from leaving them to go west. 1 

Apart from these obstacles, the transference of more than 
seven millions of people from one continent to another is 
hardly within the horizon of the possible. Their annual in- 
crease will soon approach 200,000, quite as large a number as 
could be, in a single year, conveyed to and provided for in 
Africa. How many emigrant ships, and at what cost, would 
be needed even for this, not to speak of the far larger expenses 
needed to keep them from starving till they had begun to scat- 
ter themselves through the interior of Africa! To proceed 
by transporting these 200,000 a year, would be to try to empty 
a running stream by a ladle. The notion of such a solution 
has been abandoned by nearly all sensible men in America, 
though here and there a belated voice repeats it. 

Far easier is the alternative plan of setting apart for the 
coloured people certain districts of the country, such as for 
instance the southern part of the Atlantic coast region and 
the lowlands of the Gulf, and moving them into these dis- 
tricts from the rest of the country, as Oliver Cromwell drove 
the wild Irish into Connaught. But neither does this solution 
find any favour in America. No State would consent to see 
even a part of its territory cut off and allotted to the negroes, 
to be by them administered in their own way. The rest of the 
country would hardly admit a purely black State to be repre- 
sented in Congress and to vote in Presidential elections on 
equal terms. And in many parts of the South, which are 
better suited for whites than for negroes, and in which, there- 
fore, the white population is now much larger, the leading indus- 
tries would suffer severely from the removal of negro labour. 
Northern Alabama, for instance, is in point of climate a region 
well fitted for whites. But the iron works there employ great 
numbers of negroes who are found most efficient, and whose 

1 North Carolina has, I believe, a statute which punishes with a fine of 
$1000 any one entering the State for the purpose of endeavouring to draw 
the negroes to States further west. 



chat, xcin PRESENT AND FUTURE OF THE NEGRO 617 



place might not be easily tilled. Virginia is, in the main, a white 
State. But not only the growing of tobacco, but also its prep- 
aration for the market, is a, negro industry; and it would be 
no simple matter to iind white work-people to do it equally 
well and cheaply. This scheme, therefore, may also be dis- 
missed as outside the range of practical politics. 

There remains the suggestion that the method by which race 
antagonisms have been so often removed in the past in the 
Old World, and to some extent (as, for instance, in Mexico) in 
the New World also, may eventually be applied in the United 
States : that is to say, that the two races may be blent by in- 
termarriage into one. To many Europeans, and to a very few 
survivors of the Abolitionist party in the North, this solution 
appears possible and even natural. To all Southern sentiment 
it is shocking. I have never met a Southern man, whether 
born there or an incomer from the North, who would even dis- 
cuss the possibility of such a general commixture of whites and 
blacks as Brazil has begun to show. In no Southern State 
can such a marriage be legally contracted ; and what is more 
remarkable, in every Southern State such unions are exces- 
sively rare. The percentage of children born from a white 
and a coloured parent (reckoning mulattoes and quadroons as 
coloured) is not, and hardty can be, ascertained, but it must be 
extremely small ; much less than one per cent of the total number 
of births. Even at the North, where the aversion to negro blood 
is now less strong, " miscegenation," as they call it, is deemed 
such a disgrace to the white who contracts it that one scarcely 
hears of its occurrence. Enlightened Southern men, who have 
themselves no dislike to the black race, justify this horror of 
intermarriage by arguing that no benefit which might thereby 
accrue to the negroes could balance the evil w r hich would befall 
the rest of the community. The interests of the nation and of 
humanity itself would, in their view, suffer by such a permanent 
debasement of the Anglo-American race as would follow. Our 
English blood is suffering enough already, they say, from the 
intrusion of inferior stock from Continental Europe ; and we 
should be brought down to the level of Mexico or Brazil were we 
to have an infusion from Africa added. This is the argument 
to which reason appeals. That enormous majority which does 
not reason is swayed by a feeling so strong and universal that 
there seems no chance of its abating within any assignable 



518 ILLUSTRATIONS AND REFLECTIONS 



time. Revolutions in sentiment are, no doubt, conceivable, but 
they are more rare than revolutions in politics. 
We arrive, therefore, at three conclusions. 

I. The negro will stay in North America. 

II. He will stay locally intermixed with the white popu- 
lation. 

III. He will stay socially distinct, as an alien element, 
unabsorbed and unabsorbable. 

His position may, however, change from what it is now. 
Two changes in particular seem probable. 

He will more and more draw southwards into the lower and 
hotter regions along the coasts of the Atlantic and the Gulf of 
Mexico. Whether in the more northerly States, such as Mary- 
land and Missouri, he will decrease, may be doubtful. But 
it is certainly in those southerly regions that his chief future 
increase may be expected. In other words, he will be a rela- 
tively smaller, and probably much smaller, element than at 
present in the whole population north of latitude 36°, and a 
relatively larger one south of latitude 33°, and east of longi- 
tude 94° W. 

This change will have both its good and its evil side. It may 
involve less frequent occasions for collision between the two 
races, and may dispose the negroes, where they are compara- 
tively few, to acquiesce less reluctantly in white predominance. 
But it will afford scantier opportunities for the gradual eleva- 
tion of the race in the districts where they are most numerous. 
Contact with the whites is the chief condition for the progress 
of the negro. Where he is isolated, or where he greatly out- 
numbers the whites, his advance will be retarded, although 
nothing has yet occurred to justify the fear that he will, even 
along the Gulf coast, or in the sea islands of Carolina, sink to 
the level of the Haytian. 

This first change will be the result of physical causes. The 
second change will be due to intellectual and social influ- 
ences. The negroes will doubtless, taking them over the whole 
country, though more rapidly in some regions than in others, 
advance in education, intelligence, and wealth, as well as in 
habits of thrift and application. Their progress since the 
war enables one to predict this with confidence. Such progress 
may seem an unmixed good. Yet it can hardly fail to be 
accompanied by a growing discontent with the social disa- 



iHAP.xciti PRESENT AND FUTURE OF THE NEGRO 519 



bilitiea imposed upon them. It will give them greater capacity 

for organization, possibly greater tenacity and oourage, than 

;u»w possess; and these very things may, by alarming the 

whites, tend to widen the chasm bet wren the races. Whether 
the coloured people will be much better able to give effect to the 

resentment they feel, may lie doubted, so greal is the disparity 
in strength. Hut they may be more embittered, and this em- 
bittennent. reacting upon white sentiment, may retard the 
working of those healing influences which tin- progress of 
civilization generally brings in its train. Already one hears 
the younger whites of the South talk of the growing " uppish- 
" and impertinence of the negro, as things to be resented 
and punished. 

That sense of haughty superiority which other nations note in 
the English has in their Indian dominions done much to de- 
stroy t lie happy effects of the enormous social and economic 
improvements which the rule of Britain has effected. A 
young indigo planter, or a lieutenant only just released from 
school at home, will treat with wanton insolence or contumely 
natives of the highest caste, perhaps of dignified social position 
and ancient lineage ; and though Government punishes these 
offences in the rare cases when they are brought to its know- 
ledge, the sentiment of Anglo-Indian society scarcely condemns 
them. Thus the very classes whom rank and education might 
have been expected to render loyal to British authority are 
alienated. When similar tendencies appear in the Anglo- 
American of the South, the Englishman, who knows how not 
a few of his own countrymen behave to the ancient and culti- 
vated races of the East whom they have conquered, feels that 
he is not entitled to sit in judgment. 

I do not suggest that there is any present political danger 
to the Republic, or even to any particular Southern State, 
from the phenomena here described. But the evil of these 
things is to be measured not merely by any such menace to 
political stability as they may involve, but also by the diminu- 
tion of happiness which they cause, by the passions hurtful to 
moral progress they perpetuate, by the spirit of lawlessness 
they evoke, by the contempt for the rights of man as man 
which they engender. In a world already so full of strife 
and sorrow it is grievous to see added to the other fountains 
of bitterness a scorn of the strong for the weak, and a dread 



520 ILLUSTRATIONS AND REFLECTIONS 



by the weak of the strong, grounded on no antagonism of inter- 
ests, for each needs the other, but solely on a difference in race 
and colour. 

Be these evils what they may — and serious as they seem to 
an observer from without, they are in most parts of the South 
not keenly felt — legislation and administration can do compara- 
tively little to remove them. It is, indeed, to be wished that 
lynching should be sternly repressed, — some of the Southern 
State governors are doing what they can for that purpose, — 
and that the State statutes or local regulations enforcing 
separation of blacks from whites in travelling or in places of 
public resort should be repealed. But the real change to 
which the friends of the South and of the negro look forward 
is a change in the feelings of the white people, and especially 
of the ruder and less educated part of them. The political 
troubles I have described will probably pass away under 
altered political conditions — one can already see how this 
may happen within the next fifty years. For the social diffi- 
culty, rooted deep in the characters of the two races, none but 
moral remedies have any promise of potency, and the working 
of moral remedies, sure as we believe it to be, is always 
slow. Neither will compulsive measures quicken that work- 
ing. In the United States, above all other countries, one 
must place one's hopes on the vis medicatrix naturae, and 
trust that the forces which make not only for equality, 
but also for peace and good- will among men, will in due 
time reduce these evils, as they have reduced many others. 
There is no ground for despondency to any one who remem- 
bers how hopeless the extinction of slavery seemed sixty 
or even forty years ago, and who marks the progress which 
the negroes have made since their sudden liberation. Still 
less is there reason for impatience, for questions like this 
have in some countries of the Old World required ages for 
their solution. The problem which confronts the South is one 
of the great secular problems of the world, presented here under 
a form of peculiar difficulty. And as the present differences 
between the African and the European are the product of 
thousands of years, during which one race was advancing in 
the temperate, and the other remaining stationary in the 
torrid zone, so centuries may pass before their relations as 
neighbours and fellow-citizens have been duly adjusted. 



CHAPTER XCIV 

FOREIGN POLICY AND TERRITORIAL EXTENSION 

So far I have had to say nothing, and now I need say but 
little, of a subject which would have been constantly obtrud- 
ing itself had we been dealing with any country in Europe. 
To every country in Europe foreign relations are a matter of 
primary importance. The six Great Powers of that continent 
are all in more or less danger from one another, obliged to pro- 
tect themselves by armies, fleets, and alliances. Great Britain, 
seeking no extension of territory and comparatively safe from 
attack at home, has many colonies and one vast dependency to 
protect, and is drawn by them, far more than by her European 
position, into the tangled web of Old World diplomacy. To 
all these Powers, and not less to the minor ones, the friendly 
or hostile attitude of the others is matter of vital consequence. 
Xot only, therefore, must immense sums be spent on warlike 
preparations, but a great establishment of officials must be 
maintained and no small part of the attention of the Adminis- 
tration and the legislature be given to the conduct of the inter- 
national relations of the State. These relations, moreover, 
constantly affect the internal politics of the country ; they 
sometimes cause the triumph or the defeat of a party ; they 
influence financial policy; they make or mar the careers of 
statesmen. 

In the United States, nothing of the kind. Since the Mexi- 
can war of 1845, external relations have very rarely, and then 
only to a slight extent, affected internal political strife. They 
do not lie within the sphere of party platforms or party action. 
They do not occupy the public mind. We have hitherto found 
no occasion to refer to them save in describing the functions 
of the Senate ; and I mention them now as the traveller did 
the snakes in [celand, only to note their absence, and to indi- 
cate some of the results ascribable thereto. 

581 



522 ILLUSTRATIONS AND REFLECTIONS part v 

Though the chief and obvious cause of this striking contrast 
between the great Western Republic and the Powers of Europe 
is to be found in her geographical position on a continent where, 
since she bought out France and Spain, she has had only two 
neighbours, one hopelessly weak on the south and one natu- 
rally friendly on the north, much must also be set down to 
the temper and convictions of the people. They are, and have 
always been, pacific in their views, for the unjustifiable, because 
needless, war with Mexico was the work of the slave-holding 
oligarchy and opposed to the general sentiment of the people. 
They have no lust of conquest, possessing already as much 
land as they want. They have always been extremely jealous 
of a standing army, the necessary support of ambitious foreign 
policies. They have been so much absorbed by and interested 
in the development of their material resources as to care very 
little for what goes on in other countries. As there is no mili- 
tary class, so also there is no class which feels itself called on 
to be concerned with foreign affairs, and least of all is such a 
class to be found among the politicians. Even leading states- 
men are often strangely ignorant of European diplomacy, much 
more the average senator or congressman. And into the mind 
of the whole people there has sunk deep the idea that all such 
matters belong to the bad order of the Old World ; and that 
the true way for the model Republic to influence that world is 
to avoid its errors, and set an example of pacific industrialism. 

This view of the facts may appear strange to those who re- 
member that the area of the United States, which in 1783 was 
about one million square miles, is now something over three 
and a half millions. All this added territory, however, except 
the cessions made by Mexico in 1847, came peaceably by way 
of purchase or (in the case of Texas) voluntary union ; and all 
(with the possible exception of Alaska) consists of regions 
which naturally cohere with the original Republic, and ought 
to be united with it. The limits of what may be called natural 
expansion have now (subject to what will be said presently) 
been reached ; and the desire for annexation is probably feebler 
than at any preceding epoch, while the interest in foreign rela- 
tions generally has not increased. For a time a sort of friend- 
ship was professed for Russia, more for the sake of teasing 
England than from any real sympathy with a despotic mon- 



nur.xOH TERRITORIAL EXTENSION 52.3 



aivhv very alien to tlie American spirit. But at present abso- 
lute neutrality and impartiality as regards the Old World is 
observed; and a remarkable proof of the desire to abstain from 
engagements affecting it was recently given, when the CJnited 
States Government declined to ratify the International Act of 
the Berlin Conference oi' 1886 regulating the Congo Free State, 
although its minister at Berlin had taken part in the delibera- 
tions of the Conference by which that Act was prepared. And 
it was after much delay and some hesitation that they ratified 
(in 1892) even the Brussels International Slave Trade Act. 

Such abstinence from Old World affairs is the complement to 
that claim of a right to prevent any European power from 
attempting to obtain a controlling influence in New World 
affairs which goes by the name of the Monroe Doctrine, from 
the assertion of it by President Monroe in his Message of ltt'J'A. 

The notion that the United States ought to include at least 
all the English and French speaking communities of North 
America is an old one. Repeated efforts were made before and 
during the War of Independence to induce Canada, Nova Scotia, 
and even the Bermuda Islands to join the revolted colonies. 
For many years afterwards the view continued to be expressed 
that no durable* peace with Great Britain could exist so long 
as she retained possessions on the North American continent. 
When by degrees that belief died away, the eyes of ambi- 
tious statesmen turned to the South. The slave-holding party 
sought to acquire Cuba and Porto Rico, hoping to turn them 
into slave States ; and President Polk even tried to buy Cuba 
from Spain. After the abolition of slavery, attempts were 
made under President Johnson in 1867 to acquire St. Thomas 
and St. John's from Denmark, and by President Grant (1869- 
73) to acquire San Domingo, — an independent republic, — but 
the Senate frustrated both. 

None the less does the idea that the United States is entitled 
to forbid any new establishment by any European power on its 
own continent, still survive, and indeed constitute the one fixed 
principle of foreign policy which every party and indeed every 
statesman professes. It is less needed now than it was in 
Monroe's day, because the United States have grown so im- 
mensely in strength that no European power can constitute a 
danger to them. Nevertheless, it was asserted in 1865. and led 



524 ILLUSTRATIONS AND REFLECTIONS part v 

to Louis Napoleon's abandonment of his Mexican schemes. It 
would have been asserted had the Panama Canal been com- 
pleted. It is at the basis of the claim occasionally put forward 
made to control the projected Nicaragua inter-oceanic canal, 
and is supported by the argument that a water-way between the 
Atlantic and the Pacific is of far more consequence, not only in 
a commercial but in a military sense, to the United States than 
to any other power. So the idea that the United States ought 
to lead the New World found expression in the Pan-American 
Congress of Republics convened at Washington in 1891, pri- 
marily with a view to the establishment of some general tariff 
system, though that Congress, as might have been expected, 
effected nothing, and ended, not without some derision, in a 
series of pleasure trips by the delegates from the so-called 
republics of South and Central America. The Monroe Doc- 
trine, however, generally accepted as it is, can hardly be said 
practically to occupy the mind or influence the current politics 
of America. Though it would no doubt lead the Government 
to consider international questions arising even in South Amer- 
ica as much more within the scope of their influence than any, 
not directly affecting their own citizens, which might arise in 
the Old World, still the occasions for its assertion are com- 
paratively few, and are not likely to involve serious difficulties 
with any European power. 

The results of this indifference to foreign politics are in so 
far unfortunate that they frequently induce carelessness in the 
choice of persons to represent the United States at European 
Courts, the Ambassador to Great Britain being usually the only 
one who has really important negotiations to conduct, and 
cause very inadequate appropriations to be voted for the sup- 
port of such envoys. In other respects her detachment has 
been for the United States an unspeakable blessing. No army 
is needed, except for the repression of Indian troubles in the 
far West. The whole military force of the Eepublic now con- 
sists of about 25,000 privates (largely of foreign birth) and 
2144 officers. The officers, admirably trained at West Point, 
the famous military academy which has maintained its high 
character and its absolute freedom from "political affiliations" 
since its first foundation, are largely occupied in scientific or 
engineering work. Only a small navy is needed, — a fortunate 



chat i TEBRITOBIA1 EXTENSION 

circumstance, the navy yards have sometimes given 

rise to administrative scandals, scandals, however, which have 

in no way affected the naval officers but only the civilian poli- 
ticians who have had a hand in shipbuilding and the provision 

of armaments and stores. The cry which is sometimes i 
for a Large increase in the United States fleet seems to a Euro- 
pean observer unwise; for the power of the United States to 
protect her citizens abroad is not to be measured by the number 

of vessels or guns she possesses, but by the fact that there is 
no power in the world which will not lose far more than it can 
ly gain by quarrelling with a nation which could, in case 
of war. so vast are its resources, not only create an armoured 
fleet but speedily equip swift vessels which would destroy the 
commerce of its antagonist. The possession of powerful arma- 
ments is apt to inspire a wish to use them. For many years 
there has been no cloud on the external horizon, and one may 
indeed say that the likelihood of a war between the United 
States and any of the great naval powers is too slight to be 
worth considering. 

The result of this smallness of an army and navy is not 
only the freedom of the country from militarism of spirit 
and the slightness of a branch of expenditure which European 
States rind almost insupportable, but the exemption of this 
Republic from a source of danger which other republics have 
found so serious. — the ambition of successful generals, and 
the interference of the army in political strifes. Strong and 
deep-rooted as are the constitutional traditions of the United 
States, there have been moments, even in her history, when 
the existence of a great standing army might have menaced 
or led to civil war. Patriotism has not suffered, as Europeans 
sometimes fancy it must suffer, by long-continued peace. Man- 
liness of spirit has not suffered because so few embrace the 
profession of arms ; and the internal politics of the country, 
already complicated enough, are relieved from those further 
complications which the intrusion of issu-s of foreign policy 
bring with them. It need hardly be added that those issues 
are the very issues which a democracy, even so intelligent a 
democracy as that of the United States, is least fitted to com- 
prehend, and which its organs of government are least fitted 
to handle with promptitude and success. Fortunately, the one 



526 ILLUSTRATIONS AND REFLECTIONS part v 

principle to which the people have learnt to cling in foreign 
policy is, that the less they have of it the better ; and though 
aspiring politicians sometimes try to play upon national pride 
by using arrogant language to other powers, or by suggesting 
schemes of annexation, such language is generally reprobated, 
and such schemes are usually rejected. 

To state this tendency of national opinion does not, however, 
dispose of the question of territorial expansion ; for nations are 
sometimes forced to increase their dominions by causes outside 
their own desires or volitions. The possibilities that lie before 
America of such expansion deserve a brief discussion. 

Occupying the whole width of their continent from ocean to 
ocean, the Americans have neighbours onty on the north and on 
the south. It is only in these directions that they could extend 
themselves by land ; and extension on land is much easier and 
more tempting than by sea. On the north they touch the great 
Canadian Confederation with its seven provinces, also extending 
from the Atlantic to the Pacific, and now bound together by a 
transcontinental railway. Its population, already about five 
millions, is rapidly increasing, especially in the North-west, and 
although legally subject to the British Crown and legislature, it 
is admittedly mistress of its own destinies. It was at one time 
deemed a matter of course that the United States would seek 
to annex Canada, peaceably if possible, but if not, then by 
force of arms. Even so late as 1864, Englishmen were con- 
stantly told that the first result of the triumph of the Federal 
armies in the War of Secession would be to launch a host 
flushed with victory against the Canadian Dominion, because 
when the passion for war has been once roused in a nation, it 
clamours for fresh conquests. Many were the arguments from 
history by which it was sought to convince Britain that for her 
own safety she ought to accede to the wily suggestions which 
Louis Napoleon addressed to her, deliver the Slave States from 
defeat and herself from a formidable rival. Since those days 
Canada has become a far more tempting prize, for part of her 
north-western territories between Lake Superior and the Rocky 
Mountains, then believed to be condemned to sterility by their 
climate, has proved to be one of the richest wheat-growing dis- 
tricts on the continent. The power of the United States is now 
far greater than in 1865, nor would it be easy for Britain and 



chap, xciv TERRITORIAL EXTENSION 527 



Canada effectively to defend a frontier so long and so naturally 

weak as is that which separates the Dominion from its neigh- 
bours on the south. Yet to-day the absorption of Canada is 
little debated in the United States. If ever it comes about, it 
will come about at the wish and by the act of the Canadians 
themselves, rather than as the result of any external force. 

There are several reasons for this. One is the growing 
friendliness of the Americans to Britain. Considering how 
much commoner than love is hatred, or at least jealousy, be- 
tween nations, considering the proverbial bitterness of family 
quarrels, and considering how intense was the hatred felt in the 
United States towards England fifty years ago, 1 rekindled by 
the unhappy war of 1812, kept alive by the sensitiveness of the 
one people and the arrogance of the other, imprinted afresh on 
new generations in America by silly school-books and Fourth 
of July harangues, inflamed anew by the language of a large 
section of English society during the Civil War. it is one of the 
remarkable events of our time that a cordial feeling should now 
exist between the two chief branches of the English race. The 
settlement of the Alabama claims has contributed to it. The 
democratization of Britain and the growth of literature and 
science in America have contributed to it. The greater respect 
which Europeans have come to show to America has contrib- 
uted to it. The occasional appearance of illustrious men who, 
like Dr. Phillips Brooks and Mr. J. R. Lowell, become dear to 
both countries, has counted for something. But the ocean 
steamers have done perhaps most of all, because they have 
enabled the two peoples to know one another. Such unfriendly 
language towards Britain as still appears in the American press 
is chiefly due to the wish to gratify a section of the Irish popu- 
lation, and will probably vanish when the secular hostility of 
Ireland and England has passed away. The old motives for 
an attack upon Canada have therefore vanished. But there is 
reason to think that even if Canada were separated from the 
British Empire, the Americans would not be eager to bring her 
into the Union. They would not try to do so by force, because 

1 Tocqueville, for instance, says (vol. ii. ch. 10): "On ne saurait voir de 
haine plus envenimee que celle qui existe entre les Ame'ricains des Etats Unis 
et lea Anelais." And old men will tell you in America that their recollections 
are to the samp effect. 



528 ILLUSTRATIONS AND REFLECTIONS part v 

that would be contrary to their doctrines and habits. They 
have a well-grounded aversion, strengthened by their experi- 
ence of the difficulties of ruling the South after 1865, to the 
incorporation or control of any community not anxious to be 
one with them and thoroughly in harmony with their own body. 
Although they would rejoice over so great an extension of 
territory and resources, they are well satisfied with the present 
size and progress of their own country. Moreover, each of the 
two great parties has misgivings as to the effect which the addi- 
tion of Canada might have on the political character of the 
electorate. The Democrats have feared that the people of 
Ontario and Manitoba would secure preponderance to the 
Republicans. The Republicans have been equally suspicious 
of the Roman Catholic French of Lower Canada. Both parties 
feel that a disturbing and unpredictable element would be 
introduced into their calculations. Hence, though neither can 
feel certain that it would lose, neither is sufficiently clear that 
it would gain to induce it to raise the question in a practical 
form. 

The geographical position of Canada towards the United 
States, and particularly the increasingly close relations which 
must subsist between her Western provinces, Manitoba and 
British Columbia, and their Southern neighbours, may seem 
to suggest that sooner or later political union will come about. 
It need hardly be said that there is little difference between 
the populations, save that there is a stronger Scotch element 
in Western Canada than in Minnesota, Dakota, Montana, and 
Washington, where, especially in the two former, one finds 
far more Germans and Scandinavians than in Manitoba. The 
material growth of Canada would probably be quickened by 
union, and the plan of a commercial league or customs union 
which has lately been discussed might, if carried out, lead to 
a political union: indeed, it is hard to see how otherwise 
Canada could have her fair share in adjusting such tariff 
changes as might from time to time become necessary. But 
the present tariff arrangements are unstable in both countries ; 
and, so far as a stranger can gather, the temper and feelings 
of the Canadians, and the growth of a vigorous national senti- 
ment among them, do not at present make for their absorption 
into the far larger mass of the Unite 1 States, which they have 



OHAF. xciv TERRITORIAL EXTENSION 520 

hitherto regarded with jealousy. Their life, and that not as 
respects politics only, is doubtless less intense than the life of 
their neighbours to the South. But it is free from some of 
the blemishes which affect the latter. Municipal governments 
are more pure. Party organizations have not fallen under the 
control of bosses. Public order has been less disturbed ; and 
criminal justice is more effectively administered. 

This is not the place for considering what are the interests 
in the matter of Great Britain and her other colonies, nor the 
prospects of the schemes suggested for a closer practical union 
between the mother country and her swiftly advancing progeny. 
As regards the ultimate interests of the two peoples most 
directly concerned, it may be suggested that it is more to the 
advantage, both of the United States and of the Canadians, 
that they should for the present continue to develop inde- 
pendent types of political life and intellectual progress. Each 
may, in working out its own institutions, have something to 
teach the other. There is already too little variety on the 
American continent. 

Fifteen hundred miles south of British Columbia the United 
States abuts upon Mexico. The position of Mexico offers a 
striking contrast to that of Canada. The people are utterly 
unlike those of the United States ; they are bigoted Eoman 
Catholics, more than half Indian in blood and preserving many 
Indian superstitions, listless, uncultured, making little advance 
in self-government, whether local or national, increasing but 
slowly in numbers, 1 unprogressive in all directions. They do 
little to develop either the mineral or agricultural wealth of 
their superb territory, much of which, in fact all the interior 
plateau, enjoys a climate more favourable to physical exertion 
than that of the southernmost States of the Union. The export 
and import trade of the ports on the Gulf and the Pacific is 
in the hands of German and English houses : the mines of the 
north are worked by Americans, who come across from Texas 
and Arizona in greater and greater numbers. Three railways 
now pierce Northern Mexico from the Union, one reaching the 
Pacific at Guaymas on the Gulf of California, two others 

1 The population of Mexico is 11,600,000, of whom 20 per cent are stated 
to be pure whites, 43 per cent of mixed race, and the remaining 37 per cent 
Indians. 

vol. II 2 M 



ILLUSTRATIONS AND REFLECTIONS 



crossing the great plateau from the Rio Grande as far as the 
city of Mexico. The mining regions of Chihuahua and Sonora 
(the northernmost States of the Mexican federation) are 
already half American, for the capital is theirs, communica- 
tions are worked by them, their language spreads, their influ- 
ence becomes paramount. As the mines of Colorado and 
Arizona become less and less attractive, the stream of immi- 
gration will more and more set out of the United States across 
the border. If American citizens are killed, or their property 
attacked, the United States Government will be invoked, and 
will find difficulties in dealing with a weak government like 
the Mexican, which cannot always keep order in its own domin- 
ions. It is far from improbable that the American settlers, as 
their numbers grow, will be tempted to establish order for 
themselves, and perhaps at last some sort of government. In 
fact, the process by which Texas was severed from Mexico 
and brought into the Union may conceivably be repeated in a 
more peaceful way by the steady infiltration of an American 
population. It is all but impossible for a feeble state, full of 
natural wealth which her people do not use, not to crumble 
under the impact of a stronger and more enterprising race. 
All experience points to the detachment of province after 
province from Mexico and its absorption into the American 
Union ; nor when the process has once begun need it stop till, 
in a time to be measured rather by decades than by centuries, 
the petty republics of Central America have been also swal- 
lowed up and the predominant influence, if not the territorial 
frontier, of the United States has advanced to the isthmus of 
Panama. 

If the United States were a monarchy like Russia, this 
would certainly happen, happen not so much from any deliber- 
ate purpose of aggression as by the irresistible tendency of 
facts, a tendency similar to that which led Rome to conquer the 
East, England to conquer India, Russia to conquer North-west- 
ern Asia. But the Americans are most unwilling that it should 
happen, and will do all they can to prevent it. They have none 
of that earth hunger which burns in the great nations of Europe, 
having already dominions which it may take a century to peo- 
ple fully. They are proud of the capacity of their present pop- 
ulation for self-government. Their administrative system is 



CHAP, xeiv TERRITORIAL EXTENSION 581 



singularly unfitted for fche rule of dependencies, because it has 
no proper machinery for controlling provincial governors; so 
that when it finds regions which are hardly lit, to be established 

as States, it nevertheless gives them a practically all but com- 
plete self-government as Territories. Administrative posts set 
up in a dependent country would certainly be jobbed, and the 
dependent country itself probably maladministered. Nearly 
all the work which the Federal authorities have had to do of 
this kind has been badly done, and has given rise to scandals. 
Hence the only form annexation can with advantage take is the 
admission of the annexed district as a self-governing State or 
Territory, the difference between the two being that in the 
latter the inhabitants, though they are usually permitted to 
administer their domestic affairs, have no vote in Federal elec- 
tions. If Chihuahua and Sonora were like Dakota, the temp- 
tation to annex these provinces and turn them into States or 
Territories would be strong. But the Indo-Spaniards of Mexico 
have, in the seventy years that have passed since they revolted 
from Spain, shown little fitness for the exercise of political 
power. They are hardly more advanced in this direction than 
the Moors or the Samoans. They would be not only an inferior 
and diverse element in the Union, but a mischievous element, 
certain, if they were admitted to Federal suffrage, to injure 
Federal politics, to demoralize the officials who might be sent 
among them, and to supply a fertile soil for all kinds of roguery 
and rascality, which, so far as they lay within the sphere of 
State action, the Federal Government could not interfere with, 
and which in Federal affairs would damage Congress and bring 
another swarm of jobs and jobbers to Washington. Eight 
millions of recently enfranchised negroes (not to speak of 
recent immigrants from Europe) are a heavy enough load for 
the Anglo-Americans to carry on their shoulders without the 
ignorance and semi-barbarism of the mixed races of the tropics. 
One finds in the United States, and of course especially in 
Arizona, New Mexico, and Texas, many people who declare that 
Mexico will be swallowed, first the northern provinces, and 
the whole in time. It is " manifest destiny," and the land and 
mining-claim speculators of these border lands would be glad to 
help Destiny. But the general feeling of the nation is strongly 
against a forward policy, nor has either party any such interest 



532 ILLUSTRATIONS AND REFLECTIONS part v 

in promoting it as the Southern slave-holders had fifty-five 
years ago in bringing in Texas. It is therefore not a question 
of practical politics. Yet it is a problem which already deserves 
consideration, for the future in which it may become practical 
is not distant. It is a disquieting problem. The clearest 
judgment and the firmest will of a nation cannot always resist 
the drift of events and the working of natural causes. 

I have already observed that the United States Government 
formerly desired and seemed likely to acquire some of the 
West India islands. The South had a strong motive for add- 
ing to the Union regions in which slavery prevailed, and which 
would have been admitted as Slave States. That motive has 
long since vanished: and so far as the South has now an 
interest in these isles it is that they should remain outside the 
line of American custom-houses, so that their products may 
not compete free of duty with those which the South raises. 
All the objections which apply to the incorporation of North- 
ern Mexico apply with greater force to the incorporation of 
islands far less fit for colonization by the Anglo-American race 
than are the Mexican table-lands. One islet only, Navassa. 
between Jamaica and San Domingo, belongs to the United 
States. 

There is, however, one spot beyond the limits of the North 
American continent in which Americans have, ever since 1843 
(when there was for a time a risk of its being occupied by 
England), declared that they feel directly interested. This is 
the island group of Hawaii, which lies 2000 miles to the south- 
west of San Francisco. Great as this distance is, the Ameri- 
cans conceive that the position of these isles over against their 
own Western coast would be so threatening to their commerce 
in a war between the United States and any naval power, that 
they cannot suffer the islands to be occupied by, or even to fall 
under the influence of, any European nation. No European 
nation has of late years betrayed any design of acquiring 
such an influence, while Great Britain and France have ex- 
pressly renounced it. However, the United States Govern- 
ment, wishful to provide against emergencies, has endeavoured 
to purchase land at Pearl River in Oahu, reputed the best har- 
bour in the group, with the view of establishing a naval station 
there. 



i n.vi'. x, iv TERRITORIAL EXTENSION 688 

forecast the Future oi the Hawaiian I sirs is by no means 

The population is at present (census of L890) 89,990, of 
whom 34.000 are native Hawaiians (besides 6000 half-castes), 
L5,000 Chinese, 12,000 Japanese. 8600 Portuguese (recentlj 

imported to work the sugar plantations), and about 1.2,000 
persons of European or American origin. Among these the 
Americans stand lirst in number; Englishmen come next and 
Germans third. The control of affairs has been practically in 
the hands of the whites, American and British, though Portu- 
guese as well as native Hawaiians enjoy the suffrage. Things 
went on well since, from the time when, in the clays of the late 
King, an unscrupulous Prime Minister was expelled by a sort of 
bloodless revolution, until the rising of 1892, when (apparently 
with the connivance of the person then representing the United 
States) Queen Liliuokalani was with equal ease dethroned. 
The provisional government then offered the islands to the 
United States, and even concluded a treaty providing for their 
annexation, which President Harrison submitted to the Senate. 1 
Before the Senate acted upon it, a new President came into 
office and withdrew the treaty, intimating his disapproval of 
any "acquisition of new and distant territory," a disapproval 
in which public opinion seems to have joined. At present, 
though nothing has been constitutionally settled as to the 
future form of government, peace and order are not seriously 
disturbed. The ruling white population, which is of a good 
type, and has hitherto kept free from scandals such as gather 
round the politics of San Francisco, may well, either under a 
restored monarchy or a republic, continue to administer the 
islands with success. But as the native race, which Captain 
Cook estimated at 300,000, has sunk since 1866 from 57,000 to 
34,000 and is likely to go on declining, it would have been dif- 
ficult, even had no revolution intervened, to maintain a native 
dynasty, or indeed a monarchy of any kind : and the tendency 
to seek annexation to the United States must in any case have 
been strong. There may not, however, be in the future, any 
more than now, a preponderating wish in the United States to 

1 It has been doubted whether the President and Senate are entitled under 
the treaty making power given by the Constitution to acquire for the United 
States territories lying far away from the North American continent. 



534 ILLUSTRATIONS AND REFLECTIONS part v 

acquire the islands and admit them to the Union as a State or 
Territory. Their white population is at present far too small 
to make either course desirable — the registered voters were 
(in 1893) about 1800 persons of European or American stock, 
with 9554 natives and half-castes; — the presence of a large 
Asiatic population would, in view of recent Federal legislation 
against the Chinese, raise serious difficulties; and in case of 
war with a naval power the obligation of defending them 
might be found burdensome, although they are not quite so 
distant from the American coast as some of the Aleutian 
isles, acquired when Alaska was purchased. It is, however, 
certain that the Americans would not stand by and see any 
other nation establish a protectorate over them. 

The fate of Western South America belongs to a still more 
distant future; but it can hardly remain unconnected with 
what is already by far the greatest power in the Western 
hemisphere. When capital, which is accumulating in the 
United States with extraordinar}^ rapidity, is no longer able 
to find highly profitable employment in the development of 
Western North America, it will tend to seek other fields. 
When population has filled up the present territory of the 
United States, enterprising spirits will overflow into unde- 
veloped regions. The nearest of these is Western South 
America, the elevated plateaux of which are habitable by 
Northern races. It may be conjectured that the relations of 
the vast territories in Ecuador, Peru, and Bolivia, 1 for which 
the Spaniards have done so little, and which can hardly remain 
for ever neglected, will one day become far closer with the 
United States than with any European power. 

1 These three countries have a total area of ahout 1,500,000 square miles, 
with a settled population not exceeding 5,500,000, besides an unascertained 
number of uncivilized Indians. 



CHAPTER XCV 

LAISSEZ FAIRE 

A European friend of a philosophic turn of mind bade me, 
when he heard that I was writing this book, dedicate at least 
one chapter to the American Theory of the State. I answered 
that the Americans had no theory of the State, and felt no need 
for one, being content, like the English, to base their constitu- 
tional ideas upon law and history. 

In England and America alike (I pursued) one misses a whole 
circle and system of ideas and sentiments which have been potent 
among the nations of the European continent. To those nations 
the State is a great moral power, the totality of the wisdom and 
conscience and force of the people, yet greater far than the sum 
of the individuals who compose the people, because consciously 
and scientifically, if also by a law of nature, organized for 
purposes which the people indistinctly apprehend, and because 
it is the inheritor of a deep-rooted reverence and an almost 
despotic authority. There is a touch of mysticism in this con- 
ception, which has survived the change from arbitrary to repre- 
sentative government, and almost recalls the sacredness that 
used to surround the mediaeval church. In England the tradi- 
tions of an ancient monarchy and the social influence of the 
class which till lately governed have enabled the State and its 
service to retain a measure of influence and respect. No one, 
however, attributes any special wisdom to the State, no one 
treats those concerned with administration or legislation as a 
superior class. Officials are strictly held within the limits of 
their legal powers, and are obeyed only so far as they can show 
that they are carrying out the positive directions of the law. 
Their conduct, and indeed the decisions of the highest State 
organs, are criticised, perhaps with more courtesy, but otherwise 
in exactly the same way as those of other persons and bodies. 



536 ILLUSTRATIONS AND REFLECTIONS part v 

Yet the State is dignified, and men are proud to serve it. From 
the American mind, that which may be called the mystic aspect 
of the State, and the theory of its vast range of action, are as 
conspicuously absent as they are from the English. They are 
absent, not because America is a democracy, but because the 
political ideas of the two branches of the race are fundamen- 
tally the same, a fact which continental observers of the United 
States constantly fail to appreciate. In America, however, 
even the dignity of the State has vanished. It seems actually 
less than the individuals who live under it. The people, that 
is to say the vast multitude of men who inhabit the country, 
inspire admiration, the organism is ignored. The State is noth- 
ing but a name for the legislative and administrative machinery 
whereby certain business of the inhabitants is despatched. It 
has no more conscience, or moral mission, or title to awe and 
respect, than a commercial company for working a railroad or 
a mine ; and those who represent it are treated in public and 
in private with quite as little deference. 

Hereupon my friend rejoined that people in America must 
at least have some general views about the functions of govern- 
ment and its relations to the individual. " We are told," he 
continued, " that the whole American polity is more coherent, 
more self-consistent than that of England ; it must therefore 
have what the Germans call ' ground-ideas.' There is a profu- 
sion of legislation. Legislation must proceed upon these ideas, 
and by examining the current legislation of the Federal govern- 
ment and of the States you will be able to discover and present 
the beliefs and notions regarding the State which the Americans 
cherish." 

The term " ground-ideas " does not happily describe the doc- 
trines that prevail in the United States, for the people are not 
prone to form or state their notions in a philosophic way. 
There are, however, certain dogmas or maxims which are in so 
far fundamental that they have told widely on political thought, 
and that one usually strikes upon them when sinking a shaft, 
so to speak, into an American mind. Among such dogmas are 
the following : — 

Certain rights of the individual, as, for instance, his right to 
the enjoyment of what he has earned, and to the free expres- 
sion of his opinions, are primordial and sacred. 



LAISSEZ FAIRE 687 



All political power springs from the people, and the most 
completely popular government is the best. 

Legislatures, officials, and all other agents of the sovereign 
people ought to be strictly limited by law, by each other, and 
by the shortness of the terms of office. 

Where any function can be equally well discharged by a 
central or by a local body, it ought by preference to be entrusted 
to the local body, for a centralized administration is more likely 
to be tyrannical, inefficient, and impure than one which, being 
on a small scale, is more fully within the knowledge of the 
citizens and more sensitive to their opinion. 

Two men are wiser than one, one hundred than ninety-nine, 
thirty millions than twenty-nine millions. Whether they are 
wiser or not, the will of the larger number must prevail against 
the will of the smaller. But the majority is not wiser because 
it is called the Nation, or because it controls the government, 
but only because it is more numerous. The nation is nothing 
but so many individuals. The government is nothing but 
certain representatives and officials, agents who are here to-day 
and gone to-morrow. 

The less of government the better ; that is to say, the fewer 
occasions for interfering with individual citizens are allowed 
to officials, and the less time citizens have to spend in looking 
after their officials, so much the more will the citizens and the 
community prosper. The functions of government must be 
kept at their minimum. 

The first five of these dogmas have been discussed and illus- 
trated in earlier chapters. The last of them needs a little 
examination, because it suggests points of comparison with the 
Old World, and because the meaning of it lies in the applica- 
tion. It is all very well to say that the functions of govern- 
ment should be kept at a minimum ; but the bureaucrats of 
Russia might say the same. What is this minimum ? Every 
nation, every government, every philosopher, has his own view 
as to the functions which it must be taken to include. 

The doctrine of Laissez /aire, or non-interference by govern- 
ment with the citizen, has two foundations, which may be called 
the sentimental and the rational. The sentimental ground is 
the desire of the individual to be let alone, to do as he pleases, 
indulge his impulses, follow out his projects. The rational 



MS ILLUSTRATIONS AND REFLECTIONS part v 

ground is the principle, gathered from an observation of the 
phenomena of society, that interference by government more 
often does harm than good — that is to say, that the desires 
and impulses of men when left to themselves are more likely 
by their natural collision and co-operation to work out a happy 
result for the community and the individuals that compose it 
than will be attained by the conscious endeavours of the state 
controlling and directing those desires and impulses. There 
are laws of nature governing mankind as well as the material 
world ; and man will thrive better under these laws than under 
those which he makes for himself through the organization we 
call Government. 

Of these two views, the former or sentimental has been ex- 
tremely strong in America, being rooted in the character and 
habits of the race, and seeming to issue from that assertion of 
individual liberty which is proclaimed in such revered docu- 
ments as the Declaration of Independence and the older State 
constitutions . The latter view, incessantly canvassed in Europe, 
has played no great part in the United States ; or rather it has 
appeared in the form not of a philosophic induction from ex- 
perience, but of a common-sense notion that everybody knows 
his own business best, that individual enterprise has "made 
America," and will " run America," better than the best govern- 
ment could do. 

The State governments of 1776 and the National government 
of 1789 started from ideas, mental habits, and administrative 
practice generally similar to those of contemporary England. 
Now England in the eighteenth century was that one among 
European countries in which government had the narrowest 
sphere. The primitive paternal legislation of the later middle 
ages had been abandoned. The central government had not 
begun to stretch out its arms to interfere with quarter sessions 
in the counties, or municipal corporations in the towns, to 
care for the health, or education, or morals of the people. That 
strengthening and reorganization of administration which was 
in progress in many parts of the continent, as in Prussia under 
Frederick the Great, and in Portugal under Pombal, had not 
spread to England, and would have been resisted there by men 
of conservative tendencies for one set of reasons, and men of 
liberal tendencies for another. Eveiything tended to make 



chat, xcv LAISSEZ KAIRE 689 

the United States in this respect more English than England, 
for the circumstances of colonial life, the process of settling 
the western wilderness, the feelings evoked by the struggle 
against George 111., all went to intensify individualism, the 
love of enterprise, and the pride in personal freedom. And 
from that day to this, individualism, the love of enterprise, 
and the pride in personal freedom, have been deemed by Ameri- 
cans not only their choicest, but their peculiar and exclusive 
possessions. 

The hundred years which have passed since the birth of the 
Republic have, however, brought many changes with them. 
Individualism is no longer threatened by arbitrary kings, and 
the ramparts erected to protect it from their attacks are useless 
and grass-grown. If any assaults are to be feared they will 
come from another quarter. New causes are at work in the 
world tending not only to lengthen the arms of government, 
but to make its touch quicker and firmer. Do these causes 
operate in America as well as in Europe ? and, if so, does 
America, in virtue of her stronger historical attachment to 
individualism, oppose a more effective resistance to them ? 

I will mention a few among them. Modern civilization, in 
becoming more complex and refined, has become more exacting. 
It discerns more benefits which the organized power of govern- 
ment can secure, and grows more anxious to attain them. 
Men live fast, and are impatient of the slow working of 
natural laws. The triumphs of physical science have enlarged 
their desires for comfort, and shown them how many things 
may be accomplished by the application of collective skill and 
large funds which are beyond the reach of individual effort. 
Still greater has been the influence of a quickened moral sensi- 
tiveness and philanthropic sympathy. The sight of preventable 
evil is painful, and is felt as a reproach. He who preaches 
patience and reliance upon natural progress is thought callous. 
The sense of sin may, as theologians tell us, be declining ; but 
the dislike to degrading and brutalizing vice is increasing ; there 
is a warmer recognition of the responsibility of each man for 
his neighbour, and a more earnest zeal in works of moral reform. 
Some doctrines which, because they had satisfied philosophers, 
were in the last generation accepted by the bulk of educated 
men, have now become, if not discredited by experience, y t 



540 ILLUSTRATIONS AND REFLECTIONS part v 

far from popular. They are thought to be less universally true, 
less completely beneficial, than was at first supposed. There 
are benefits which the laws of demand and supply do not pro- 
cure. Unlimited competition seems to press too hardly on the 
weak. The power of groups of men organized by incorporation 
as joint-stock companies, or of small knots of rich men acting 
in combination, has developed with unexpected strength in 
unexpected ways, overshadowing individuals and even commu- 
nities, and showing that the very freedom of association which 
men sought to secure by law when they were threatened by the 
violence of potentates may, under the shelter of the law, ripen 
into a new form of tyranny. And in some countries, of which 
Britain may be taken as the type, the transference of political 
power from the few to the many has made the many less jealous 
of governmental authority. The government is now their 
creature, their instrument — why should they fear to use it? 
They may strip it to-morrow of the power with which they have 
clothed it to-day. They may rest confident that its power will 
not be used contrary to the wishes of the majority among them- 
selves. And as it is in this majority that authority has now 
been vested, they readily assume that the majority will be right. 
How potent these influences and arguments have proved in 
the old countries of Europe, how much support they receive not 
only from popular sentiment, but from the writings of a vigor- 
ous school of philosophical economists, all the world knows. 
But what of newer communities, where the evils to be combated 
by state action are fewer, where the spirit of liberty and the 
sentiment of individualism are more intense ? An eminent 
English statesman expresses the general belief of Englishmen 
when he says : — 

" How is it that while the increasing democracy at home is insisting, 
with such growing eagerness, on more control by the state, we see so small 
a corresponding development of the same principle in the United States or 
in Anglo-Saxon colonies ? It is clearly not simply the democratic spirit 
which demands so much central regulation. Otherwise we should find 
the same conditions in the Anglo-Saxon democracies across the seas." * 

This belief of Englishmen is also the general belief of Ameri- 
cans. I suppose that nine men out of ten would tell a stranger 
that both the Federal government and the State governments 
1 Mr. Goschen, in an address delivered at Edinburgh in 1883. 



chap, xcv LAISSEZ FAIRE 641 

interfered little, and would ascribe the prosperity of the country 
to this non-interference as well as to the soli-reliant spirit of 
the people. So far as there can be said to be any theory on the 
subject in a land which gets on without theories, laissez alter 
has been the orthodox and accepted doctrine in the sphere 
both of Federal and of State legislation. 

Nevertheless the belief is groundless. The new democracies 
of America are just as eager for state interference as the democ- 
racy of Britain, and try their experiments with even more light- 
hearted promptitude. No one need be surprised at this when 
he reflects that the causes which have been mentioned as telling 
on Europe, tell on the United States with no less force. Men 
are even more eager than in Europe to hasten on to the ends 
they desire, even more impatient of the delays which a reliance 
on natural forces involves, even more sensitive to the wretched- 
ness of their fellows, and to the mischiefs which vice and igno- 
rance breed. Unrestricted competition has shown its dark side : 
great corporations have been more powerful than in Britain, 
and more inclined to abuse their power. Having lived longer 
under a democratic government, the American masses have 
realized more perfectly than those of Europe that they are 
themselves the government. Their absolute command of its 
organization (except where constitutional checks are inter- 
posed) makes them turn more quickly to it for the accomplish- 
ment of their purposes. And in the State legislatures they 
possess bodies with which it is easy to try legislative experi- 
ments, since these bodies, though not of themselves disposed 
to innovation, are mainly composed of men unskilled in eco- 
nomics, inapt to foresee any but the nearest consequences of 
their measures, prone to gratify any whim of their constituents, 
and open to the pressure of any section whose self-interest or 
impatient philanthropy clamours for some departure from the 
general principles of legislation. For crotchet-mongers as well 
as for intriguers there is no such paradise as the lobby of a 
State legislature. No responsible statesman is there to oppose 
them, no warning voice will be raised by a scientific economist. 

Thus it has come to pass that, though the Americans have 
no theory of the State and take a narrow view of its functions, 
though they conceive themselves to be devoted to laissez /aire 
in principle, and to be in practice the most self-reliant of peo- 



542 ILLUSTRATIONS AND REFLECTIONS part v 

pies, they have grown no less accustomed than the English to 
carry the action of government into ever-widening fields. Eco- 
nomic theory did not stop them, for practical men are proud 
of getting on without theory. 1 The sentiment of individualism 
did not stop them, because State intervention has usually taken 
the form of helping or protecting the greater number, while 
restraining the few; and personal freedom of action, the love 
of which is strong enough to repel the paternalism of France 
or Germany, has been infringed upon only at the bidding of a 
strong moral sentiment, such as that which condemns intem- 
perance. So gradual has been the process of transition to 
this new habit that few but lawyers and economists have yet 
become aware of it, and the lamentations with which old- 
fashioned English thinkers accompany the inarch of legislation 
are in America scarcely heard and wholly unheeded. 

As the field of ordinary private law and administration 
belongs to the States, it is chiefly in State legislation that we 
must look for instances of governmental intervention. Recent 
illustrations of the tendency to do by law what men were 
formerly left to do for themselves, and to prohibit by law acts 
of omission and commission which used to pass unregarded, 
might be culled in abundance from the statute-books of nearly 
every commonwealth. 2 It is in the West, which plumes itself 
on being pre-eminently the land of freedom, enterprise, and 
self-help, that this tendency is most active and plays the 
strangest pranks, because legislators are, in the West, more 
impatient and self-confident than elsewhere. 

The forms which legislative intervention takes may be 
roughly classified under the following heads : — 

Prohibitions to individuals to do acts which are not, in the 
ordinary sense of the word, criminal {e.g. to sell intoxicating 
liquors, to employ a labourer for more than so many hours in 
a day). 

Directions to individuals to do things which it is not ob- 
viously wrong to omit {e.g. to provide seats for shop-women, 
to publish the accounts of a railway company). 

1 Till recently, there has been little theoretical discussion of these questions 
in the United States. At present the two tendencies, that of Laissez /aire and 
that which leans to State interference, are well represented by able writers. 

2 I have collected some instances in a note to this chapter. See also an 
article by Dr. Albert Shaw in Contemporary Review for May, 1887. 



CHAP. XOV LAISSEZ FAIRK f>43 



Interferences with bhe ordinary course of law in order t-> 

protect individuals from the consequences of their own acts 

{e.g. the annulment of contracts between employer and work- 
men making the former not liable for accidental injuries to 
tin 1 latter, the exemption o\' homesteads, or of a certain amount 
of personal property, from the claims of creditors, the prohi- 
bition of more than a certain rate of interest on money). 

Directions to a public authority to undertake work which 
might be left to individual action and the operation of supply 
and demand (e.g. the providing of schools and dispensaries, 
the establishment of State analysts, State oil inspectors, the 
collection and diffusion, at the public expense, of statistics). 

Retention, appropriation, or control by the State of certain 
natural sources of wealth or elements in its production (e.g. 
the declaration, made by Washington, Wyoming, Montana, and 
Idaho, that the use of all waters, whether still or flowing, within 
their respective bounds, is a public use, and for ever subject to 
State control, the prohibition by Indiana of the wasteful use 
of natural gas). 

In every one of these kinds of legislative interference the 
Americans, or at least the Western States, seem to have gone 
farther than the English Parliament. The restrictions on the 
liquor traffic have been more sweeping ; those upon the labour 
of women and children, and of persons employed by the State, 
not less so. Moral duties are more frequently enforced by 
legal penalties than in England. Railroads, insurance and 
banking companies, and other corporations are, in most States, 
strictly regulated. Efforts to protect individuals coming under 
the third head are so frequent and indulgent that their policy 
is beginning to be seriously questioned. 1 Gratuitous elemen- 

1 "A numerous and ever-increasing list of possessions has been entirely- 
exempted from execution for debt, starting with tbe traditional homestead, 
and going on through all the necessities of life, implements of trade, and even 
corner-lots and money, until, in some States, as in Texas, almost every con- 
ceivable object of desire, from a house and corner-lot to a span of fast horses, 
limy l>e held and enjoyed by the poor man free from all claims of his creditors. 
Without going further into details it may be boldly slated that the tendency 
of democratic h-irislation on this subject has been to require the repayment of 
debts only when it can be made out of superfluous accumulated capital." — 
Mr. F. J. Stimson, in a vigorous and thoughtful article on the " Ethies of 
Democracy," in Scribner'a Magazine for June, 1887. 

The latest Constitution <>f Texas provides thai where a contractor becomes 
bankrupt, the labourer^ employed by him ihall have a right of action against 



544 ILLUSTRATIONS AND REFLECTIONS part v 

tary and secondary education is provided all over the Union, 
and in the West there are also gratuitous State universities 
open to women as well as to men. And although the State 
has not gone so far in superseding individual action as to 
create for itself monopolies, it is apt to spend money on some 
objects not equally cared for by European governments. It 
tries to prevent adulteration by putting its stamp on agricul- 
tural fertilizers, and prohibiting the sale of oleomargarine ; it 
establishes dairy commissions, bureaux of animal industry, 
and boards of live-stock commissioners armed with wide 
powers of inspection, it distributes seed to farmers, provides a 
State chemist to analyze soils gratuitously and recommend the 
appropriate fertilizers, subsidizes agricultural fairs, sends round 
lecturers on agriculture, and encourages by bounties the cul- 
ture of beetroot and manufacture of sugar therefrom, the 
making of starch from State-grown potatoes, tree-planting, 
and the killing of noxious animals, — English sparrows in 
Massachusetts, panthers and wolves in Wyoming. 1 The farmer 
of Kansas or Iowa is more palpably the object of the paternal 
solicitude of his legislature than the farmer of any European 
country. And in the pursuit of its schemes for blessing the 
community the State raises a taxation which would be com- 
plained of in a less prosperous country. 2 

, What has been the result of this legislation ? Have the 
effects which the economists of the physiocratic or laissez oiler 
school taught us to expect actually followed ? Has the natural 
course of commerce and industry been disturbed, has the self- 
helpfulness of the citizen been weakened, has government done 
its work ill and a new door to jobbery been opened ? It is 
still too soon to form conclusions on these points. Some few 

the company or person for whose benefit the work on which they were 
employed was done. 

1 In Kansas the gift of bounties for the heads of coyotes (prairie-wolves) 
led to the rearing of these animals on a large scale in a new description of 
stock-farms ! 

2 "Speaking broadly, and including indirect taxation, it may be stated 
that the laws now purport to give the State power to dispose of at least one- 
third the annual revenues of property. ... Of course these taxes are largely, 
by the richest citizens, evaded, but upon land at least they are effectual. It 
is certainly understating it to say that the general taxation upon land equals 
one-third the net rents, i.e. Ricardo's margin of cultivation less expenses of 
management." — Stimson, at supra. 



cuw. LAISSKZ FAIRE 545 

of the experiments have failed, others Beem to be succeeding; 
bat the policy o( st.it-' interference as a whole has no1 
been adequately tested. In making thia new departure Ajner- 
ican legislatures are serving the world, it' not their own citi- 
zens, for they are providing it with a store of valuable data 
for its instruction, data which deserve more attention than 
they have hitherto received, and whose value will increase as 
time goes on. 

It is the privilege of these unconscious philosophers to try 
experiments with less risk than countries like France or Eng- 
land would have to run, for the bodies on which the experi- 
ments are tried are so relatively small and exceptionally vig- 
orous that failures need not inflict permanent injury. No 
people is shrewder than the American in perceiving when a 
law works ill, nor prompter in repealing it. 



NOTE. 

I collect a few instances of recent legislation illustrating the tendency 
to extend State intervention and the scope of penal law : — 

New York provides that no guest shall be excluded from any hotel on 
account of race, creed (some had refused to receive Jews), or colour. 

Wisconsin requires every hotel above a certain height to be furnished 
with fireproof staircases ; and Michigan punishes the proprietors of any 
shop or factory in which the health of employes is endangered by im- 
proper heating, lighting, ventilation or sanitarian arrangements. 

Michigan compels railroad companies to provide automatic car coup- 
lings, so that employes shall not need to go between the cars. Other 
lirect the use of certain kinds of brakes. 

Georgia orders railway companies to put up a bulletin stating how 
much any train already half an hour late is overdue ; Arkansas requires 
this even if the train is only a few minutes late. 

Wyoming requires railroads passing within four miles of any city to 
provide, at the nearest point, a depot whereat all local trains shall stop ; 
while Arkansas forbids baggage to be tumbled from cars on to the plat- 
form at a depot ; and Ohio permits no one to be engaged as a train con- 
ductor unless he has had two years' previous experience as train hand. 

Massachusetts forbids the employment of colour-blind persons on rail- 
ways, and provides for the examination of those so employed. 

Ohio requires druggists to place on bottles containing poison a red 
label, naming at least two of the most readily procurable antidotes. 

- order employers to find seats for women employed in 
shops, warehouses, or manufactories. 

V' 'L. II 2 x 



546 ILLUSTRATIONS AND REFLECTIONS part v 

Several States forbid any one to practise medicine or dentistry unless 
licensed by a State Board. 

Massachusetts, Rhode Island, and Illinois compel corporations to pay 
workmen weekly. (Massachusetts lately forbade employers to deduct 
fines from the sums payable by them for wages, but the Supreme Court 
of the State [by a majority] held the statute unconstitutional.) 

Maryland institutes a "State Board of Commissioners of Practical 
Plumbing," and confines the practice of that industry to persons licensed 
by the same. New York provides Boards of Examiners to supervise 
plumber's work. 

Kansas punishes the making any misrepresentation to or deceiving 
any person in the sale of fruit or shade trees, shrubs or bulbs ; and New 
Jersey does the like as regards fruit trees or briars. 

Mississippi punishes with fine and imprisonment any legislative, execu- 
tive, judicial, or ministerial officer, who shall travel on any railroad with- 
out paying absolutely, and without any evasion whatever, the same fare 
as is required of passengers generally. 

Many States offer bounties on the raising of various agricultural prod- 
ucts or on manufactures, while California appropriates money for the 
introduction from Australia of parasites and predaceous insects, with a 
view to the extermination of a moth which injures orange trees. 

Texas makes it a punishable misdemeanour to deal in "futures" or 
"keep any 'bucket shop' or other establishment where future contracts 
are bought or sold with no intention of an actual delivery of the article 
so bought or sold," while Massachusetts is content with making such 
contracts voidable. 

Michigan prescribes a system of minority voting at the election of 
directors of joint-stock corporations ; Kentucky (by her new constitution) 
prescribes cumulative voting in like cases. 

Pennsylvania forbids the consolidation of telegraph companies. 

Ohio punishes by fine and imprisonment the offering to sell " options," 
or exhibiting any quotations of the prices of "margins," "futures," or 
"options." Georgia imposes on dealers in "futures" a tax of 8500 a 
year. 

New York forbids the hiring of barmaids, and Colorado permits no 
woman to enter a ' ' wine room. ' ' 

Colorado, Kansas, and North Carolina, make the seduction under 
promise of marriage of any chaste woman a felony. 

New York punishes with fine and imprisonment any person "who 
shall send a letter with intent to cause annoyance to any other person." 

Virginia punishes with death the destruction by dynamite or any other 
explosive of any dwelling, if at night, or endangering human life. 

Kentucky makes it a misdemeanour to play with dice any game for 
money, and a felony to keep, manage, or operate any such game. 

Washington punishes any one who permits a minor to play at cards 
in his house without the written permission of the minor's parent or 
guardian. 



chap. « i LAISSEZ FAIRE 647 

Maine requires every public sohoo] teacheT to devote do! Less than 
ten minutes per week to instruction in the principles oi kindness to birds 
and animals, and punishes any nurse who fails at mice to report to a 
physician that the eye of an infant has become reddened or inflamed 
within live weeks after birth. Rhode Island in a similar statute fixes a 
fortnight from birth ami allows six hours for the report. 

Illinois and Arizona forbid marriages between first cousins. 

Virginia punishes with a tine of §100 the sale to a minor, not only of 
pistols, dirks, and bowie-knives, but also of cigarettes. Twenty-four 
other States have similar laws forbidding minors to smoke or chew 
tobacco in public. Arizona makes it penal to sell or give liquor to a 
minor without ins parent's consent, or even to admit him to a saloon. 

Kentucky prohibits the sale of any book or periodical, ik the chief 
feature of which is to record the commission of crimes, or display by cuts 
or illustrations of crimes committed, or the pictures of criminals, des- 
peradoes, or fugitives from justice, or of men or women influenced by 
stimulants " ; and North Dakota punishes the sale or gift to, and even the 
exhibition within sight of, any minor of any book, magazine, or newspaper 
M principally made up of criminal news or pictures, stories of deeds of 
bloodshed, lust, or crime." 

Some States permit judges to hear in private cases the evidence in 
which is of an obscene nature. 

Massachusetts compels insurance companies to insure the lives of col- 
oured persons on the same terms with those of whites. 

Minnesota enacts that all labour performed by contract upon a build- 
ing shall be a first lien thereon ; and declares that the fact that the person 
performing the labour was not enjoined from so doing shall be conclusive 
evidence of the contract ; while Iowa gives to all workers in coal mines a 
lien for their wages upon all property used in constructing and working 
the mine. 

Alabama makes it a punishable offence for a banker to discount at a 
higher rate than 8 per cent. 

Many States have stringent usury laws. 

Pennsylvania forbids a mortgagee to contract for the payment by the 
mortgagor of any taxes over and above the interest payable. 

Kentucky and some other States have been making strenuous (but 
imperfectly successful) efforts to extinguish lotteries. Nevada appears to 
have authorized one. 

Five new States by their constitutions, and many others by statutes, 
endeavour to destroy the recently developed trade combinations of capi- 
talists called ••Trusts," treating them as conspiracies, and threatening- 
severe penalties against those concerned in them. 

Laws purporting to limit the hours of adult male labour have been 
I by Congress and in many States. None, however, appear to for- 
bid under penalty overtime work, except as respects public servants 
(under the Federal Government, and in Massachusetts, Maryland, Penn- 
sylvania, Colorado) the limit being 8 or ( .) hours, railway servants (Mary- 



548 ILLUSTRATIONS AND REFLECTIONS part v 

land, New Jersey, Michigan) (10 to 12 hours), and coal-rniners (Wyoming) 
(8 hours). These laws, in fact, amount to little more than a declaration 
that the number of hours mentioned shall (except as aforesaid) constitute 
a legal day's work in the absence of an agreement for longer service. 

Congress and the legislatures of at least fourteen States have by 
statute created or provided for the creation of Boards of Arbitration in 
trade disputes, but have conferred very restricted powers for that purpose. 



CHAPTER XCVI 

\Y I > MAN SUFFRAGE 

Although the question of admitting women to active politi- 
cal rights cannot be called one of the foremost issues of to-day 
in the United States, its history and present position are so 
illustrative of the way in which political proposals spring up, 
and are agitated and handled in that country, that it would 
deserve to be here noticed, even were it not a matter which has 
I present interest for at least one European country. All those 
who have speculated on the foundations of human society and 
government have long been confronted by the question how far 
differences of sex ought to imply and prescribe a distinction of 
civic rights and functions between men and women. Some 
of the bolder among philosophers have answered the question 
by simply ignoring the differences. Perceiving in women an 
intelligence and will, which, if never equal to that of the very 
strongest men, yet makes the average woman the equal for 
most purposes of the average man, inasmuch as she gains in 
quickness and delicacy of perception what she loses in force 
and endurance they have found no reason why woman should 
not share the labours, duties, and privileges of man. This was 
Plato's view, pushed by him so far as to expunge marriage and 
domestic life altogether ; and it has found expression in more 
than one religious movement in ancient as well as in modern 
times. 

Christianity approached the problem from another side, 
liecognizing in woman an immortal soul equally precious with 
the soul of man, the New Testament and the usages of the 
primitive church opened to her a Avide range of functions, vir- 
tues, and glories, in some of which she was fitted to surpass, 
and has in fact surpassed man ; while the imagination of the 
Middle Ages, more intense and fervid than that of any other 

549 



550 ILLUSTRATIONS AND REFLECTIONS part v 



epoch in history, created an ideal of feminine sweetness, purity, 
and moral beauty infinitely surpassing that of the ancient 
world, and which the modern world may count as its noblest 
possession, an ideal on the preservation of which, more perhaps 
than of any other human conception, the welfare of the race 
depends. 

The consecration of the spiritual equality of woman would 
doubtless have gone still farther than it did to secure for her a 
tangible equality in social and possibly even in political mat- 
ters but for the rudeness of the times, in which physical force 
counted for much, and for the growth of a sacramental and 
sacerdotal system, which confined priesthood and the adminis- 
tration of certain life-giving sacraments to men. Thus, though 
the relations of the sexes were placed on a more wholesome 
basis than in Greek and Eoman antiquity, though the standard 
of purity was raised and the conception of marriage dignified, 
the recognition of equality in the sphere of law, both private 
and public, was less complete than might have been expected. 
When sacramentalism and sacerdotalism were, in the peoples 
of Northern Europe, shattered by the religious movement of 
the sixteenth century, the idea of a clerical order confined to 
men was nevertheless maintained, except in a few small sects ; 
and though the law grew constantly more just and humane to 
women, scarcely a voice was raised to claim for them a share 
in the privileges of public life. 

In the early days of the American Eepublic it seems to have 
occurred to no statesman, though it did occur to a few keen- 
witted women, that the principles of the Declaration of Inde- 
pendence might find application without distinction of sex; 
but as they were not to be applied to men of any other colour 
but white, this need the less be wondered at. However, the 
legal position of women was speedily improved. State legis- 
lation gave them fuller rights of property and a better social 
status than they had enjoyed under the English common law, 
and the respectful deference with which they were treated w T as 
remarked by travellers as a singular exception to the general 
imperfection of American male manners, and as in fact tending 
to affect inauspiciously the grace of female manners. 

When negro slavery began to excite the horror of sensitive 
minds, it became necessary to re-examine the foundations of 



chap, xovi WOMAN SUFFRAGE 551 

Bociety and find a theory which would, in asserting the ulti- 
mate similarity and equality of all men, condemn the owner- 
ship of one man by another. This was done by recurring to 
the New Testament and the Declaration of Independence. Two 
questions speedily suggested themselves. If all men of what- 
ever race are equal, what of women*.' If equality be an abso- 
lute and. so to speak, indefeasible truth and principle, what 
does it, import? Does it cover merely the passive rights of 
citizenship, the right to freedom and protection for person 
and property ? or does it extend to the active right of par- 
ticipating in the government of the commonwealth? "We 
demand freedom for the negro. Do we also demand a share in 
the government ? If we do, are not women at least as well 
entitled ? If we do not, it is because we see that the negro is 
so ignorant and altogether backward as to be unfit to exercise 
political power. But can this be said of women? The con- 
siderations which might apply to the case of the liberated 
negro do not apply to her, for she is educated and capable. 
How, then, can she be excluded ? " 

This was an abstract way of looking at the matter, because 
there had not as yet been any substantial demand by women for 
political rights. But it was on the basis of abstract right that 
they were proceeding. Theory is potent with those who are 
themselves appealing from an actual state of things to theory 
and general principles. And in this instance a practical turn 
was given to the question by the fact that many of the most 
zealous and helpful workers in the Abolitionist movement were 
women. They showed as much courage in facing obloquy and 
even danger in what they deemed a sacred cause as Garrison or 
Lovejoy. They filled the Abolition societies and flocked to the 
Abolitionist conventions. They were soon admitted to vote 
and hold office in these organizations. The more timid or con- 
servative members protested, and some seceded. But in an 
aggressive movement, as in a revolution, those who go farthest 
are apt to fare best. The advocates of women's claims were 
the bolder spirits who retained the direction of the Anti-Slavery 
movement. The women established their right to share the 
perils of the combat and the glories of the victoiy. 

The claim of women to be admitted to the franchise and to 
public office would no doubt have been made sooner or later in 



552 ILLUSTRATIONS AND REFLECTIONS part v 

America (as it has been made in England) had there been no 
anti-slavery agitation. But the circumstances of its origin in 
that agitation have tinged its subsequent course. They invested 
it in the eyes of one set of persons with a species of consecra- 
tion while providing it with a body of trained workers and a pre- 
cedent inspiring hope and teaching patience. To minds of an 
opposite cast they gave it a flavour of sentimentalism, crotcheti- 
ness, and of what used to be called in America " radicalism." * 
While the struggle against slavery continued, the question was 
content to stand back, but since the end of the Civil War and 
the admission of the negroes to the franchise, it has come to the 
front, and continues to be actively pressed. There are now 
woman suffrage societies in most parts of the North and West. 
An annual convention of delegates from these societies is held, 
which stimulates the local workers and resolves on a plan of 
operations. 2 Proposals for the admission of women to this or 
that species of suffrage are sedulously urged on State legisla- 
tures. In every Congress amendments to the Federal Consti- 
tution recognizing women as voters are submitted. Neither 
House has so far accepted such an amendment, and the chance 
of its being passed by three-fourths of the States is at present 
very small. Once or twice women have been nominated as 
candidates for the Presidency, though none has ever put out a 
list of presidential electors pledged to support her candidature. 

These efforts have borne some fruit, though less than the 
party counted on thirty years ago. So far as I have been able 
to ascertain the present state of the law in the different States 
and Territories of the Union, the political rights of women 
stand as follows : — 

Up till 1893 the suffrage in elections to the State legislature 
and State offices had in one State only, Wyoming, been ex- 
tended to women, and therefore only in that State have they 
enjoyed the right of voting in Federal elections. Amend- 
ments to State constitutions purporting to confer this suffrage 
had been passed by the legislature in several States ; but the 
people invariably rejected them, and generally by a decisive 

1 The word "radical," frequently applied outside the sphere of pure poli- 
tics, e.g. to theology, seems in American use to denote rather a tendency than 
a party. 

2 The first Women's Convention was held in 1848. 



chap. «m WOMAN SUFFRAGE 568 

vote. In three Territories, however, the right of voting a1 
legislative elections was given by the legislature of the Terri- 
tory, and in one of these, Wyoming, 1 it was retained when the 
Territory received Statehood in 1890. In Utah it was abol- 
ished by a Federal statute, because thought to be exercised by 
the Mormon wives at the bidding of their polygamous hus- 
bands, and thus to strengthen the polygamic party. In 
Washington Territory the law which conferred it in 188o was 
declared invalid by the courts in 1887, because its nature had 
not been properly described in the title, was re-enacted imme- 
diately afterwards, and was in 1888 again declared invalid by 
the U. 8. Territorial Court, on the ground that the Act of Con- 
gress organizing the Territorial legislature did not empower it 
to extend the suffrage to women. In enacting their State Con- 
stitution (1889) the people of Washington pronounced against 
female suffrage by a majority of two to one ; and a good au- 
thority declared to me that most of the women were well pleased 
to lose the privilege. In 1893 the legislature of Colorado sub- 

1 According to Governor Hoyt of Wyoming, woman suffrage was carried 
there, in 1869, by the arts of one man. His account is as follows : " One large- 
hearted legislator in Wyoming went and talked with other members of the 
legislature. They smiled. But he got one of the lawyers to help him draw 
up a short bill, which he introduced. It was considered and discussed. People 
smiled generally. There was not much expectation that anything of that sort 
would be done ; but this was a shrewd fellow, who managed the party card in 
such a way as to get, as he believed, enough votes to carry the measure before 
it was brought to the test. Thus he said to the Democrats : ' We have a Re- 
publican Governor and a Democratic Assembly. Now then, if we can carry this 
bill through the Assembly, and the Governor vetoes it, we shall have made a 
point, you know; we shall have shown our liberality and lost nothing. But 
keep still; don't say anything about it.' They promised. He then went to 
the Republicans and told them that the Democrats were going to support his 
measure, and that if they didn't want to lose capital they had better vote for 
it too. He didn't think there would be enough of them to carry it; but the 
vote would be on record, and thus defeat the game of the other party. And 
they likewise agreed to vote for it. So when the bill came to a vote it went 
right through ! The members looked at each other in astonishment, for they 
hadn't intended to do it, quite. Then they laughed, and said it was a good 
joke, but they had ' got the Governor in a fix.' So the bill went, in the course 
of time, to John A. Campbell, who was then Governor — the first Governor of 
the Territory of Wyoming — and he promptly signed it ! His heart was right ! " 
— Address delivered at Philadelphia in 1882. Mr. Horace Plunkett, however, 
discredits this story, and assigns as the reasons for the passing of the bill the 
notion that it would serve to advertise Wyoming (which it did) and a sort of 
rough Western liking for a joke. (The Working of Woman Suffrage in Wyo- 
ming, Cheyenne, Wyo., 1890.) 



554 ILLUSTRATIONS AND REFLECTIONS part v 

niitted to the voters (in virtue of a provision in the Constitution) 
a law extending full franchise for all purposes to women, and 
it was carried by a majority of 6347. This remarkable result 
appears to have been largely due to the breaking up of the 
old party organizations by the new People's party, which 
generally favours woman suffrage, and to the action of the 
Knights of Labour and other groups of workingmen, among 
whom abstract theories of equality prevail. The example of 
Wyoming doubtless also told. 

In twenty States besides Wyoming and Colorado 1 women 
are allowed to vote at elections of school officers, or on some 
question connected with schools ; and in several other States 
(nine at least), as well as in all or nearly all of these twenty, 
they may be chosen to fill school offices, such as that of school 
visitor, or superintendent, or member of a school committee. 
They also enjoy ''school suffrage" in the Territory of Arizona 
and sporadically in a few cities. 

In two States, Arkansas and Mississippi, women have the 
right of voting, though not in person, upon the question of 
granting licences for the sale of intoxicants. A bill to confer 
the same right was lost in the Massachusetts legislature of 
1888 by a majorit}^ of one vote only. A similar proposal was 
defeated in the legislature of Iowa in March, 1888. 

In Kansas, in 1886, and in Michigan in 1893, women received 
the suffrage in all municipal elections. In Michigan, however, 
the law has since been declared unconstitutional. 2 

In those States where women possess the school suffrage it 
is reported that few vote ; and this is ascribed partly to in- 
difference, partly to the difficulty which women of the humbler 
class experience in leaving their homes to go to the poll. In 
Minneapolis, a city of 175,000 people, one is told that only two 
or three hundred women usually vote at school elections, and 
in Massachusetts the number of women going to the poll 

1 Connecticut, North Dakota, South Dakota, Idaho, Illinois, Indiana, Kansas, 
Kentucky, Massachusetts, Michigan, Minnesota, Montana, Nebraska, New 
Hampshire, New York, New Jersey, Oregon, Vermont, Washington, Wiscon- 
sin. Women enjoy school and municipal franchise in the Canadian Provinces 
of Ontario, Nova Scotia, Manitoba, and British Columbia. 

2 Similar proposals have within the last few years been defeated in a good 
many States, though often by small majorities. In several of the smaller 
cities of Kansas all the municipal offices, from the mayoralty and police 
judgeship downwards, have occasionally been tilled by women. 



on**. \c \. WOMAN SUFFRAGE ;>r>r, 

declined rapidly after bhe first few years. But at the .school 

election of 1SSS in Boston they voted Largely, and in L893 
pretty well, carrying one of their candidates j and in Kansas 
at the municipal election in 1893 a very heavy vote was cast 
by the female voters. 

In Connecticut, the latest State which has extended school 
suffrage to women (1893), it would appear that the women 
have not. so tar. shown much eagerness to be registered. How- 
ever, while the advanced women leaders and Prohibitionists 
started a campaign among the women voters, the husbands 
and brothers of conservative proclivities urged their wives and 
sisters to register, and not without success. 

In Wyoming (while it was still a Territory) women served as 
jurors for some months till the judges discovered that they were 
not entitled by law to do so, and in Washington (while a Terri- 
tory) they served from 1884 to 1887, when the legislature, in re- 
granting the right of voting, omitted to grant the duty or priv- 
ilege of jury service. Those whose opinions I have inquired 
inform me that the presence of women on juries was deemed 
a grave evil, and that in prosecutions for gambling or the sale 
of intoxicants a defendant had no chance before them. It is 
also stated that comparatively few went to the poll. In 
Wyoming, moreover, the women on juries are stated to have 
been more severe than men. 

As respects the suffrage in Wyoming, the evidence I have 
collected privately is conflicting. One of the most trustworthy 
authorities writes to me as follows : — 

"After the first excitement is over, it is impossible to get 
respectable women out to vote except every two or three years 
on some purely emotional question like Prohibition or other 
temperance legislation. The effect on family life seems to be 
nil; certainly not bad." Another highly competent witness 
writes : u There are no large towns, Cheyenne, with a popula- 
tion of 9000, being the largest. In the larger places most of 
the women, who are chiefly married, vote ; in the smaller and 
more rural places the women take little^nterest in it, as indeed 
the men do. As a rule, women are in favour of temperance 
and good schools, and so far as they have been able to cast 
their influence, it has been on the right side in those questions. 
Woman suffrage so far seems to work well, but the field of its 



556 ILLUSTRATIONS AND REFLECTIONS part v 

operations is one presenting singular immunity from the evils 
which elsewhere might attach to it, the population being sparse 
and women in the minority." 

Beside these and similar statements may be set the fact that 
no opposition was offered in the Convention of 1889, which 
drafted the present Constitution, to the enactment of woman 
suffrage for all purposes. The opinion of the people at large- 
was not duly ascertained, because the question was not sepa- 
rately submitted to them at the polls, but. there can be little 
doubt that it would have been favourable. The declarations of 
AV} r oming officials may deserve no great weight, for they do not 
wish to offend any section of the voters, and every Western 
American feels bound to say the best he can and something 
more for the arrangements of his own State. But the whole 
proceedings of the Convention of 1889 leave the impression 
that the equal suffrage in force since 1869 had worked fairly, 
and the summing up of the case by a thoughtful and dispas- 
sionate British observer (Mr. H. Plunkett 1 ) is to the same 
effect. Moreover, had the results been bad in Wyoming, they 
would have been quoted against the adoption of the measure 
by Colorado in 1893. It deserves, however, to be noticed that 
in these new Western States women are in a minority. In W} t o- 
ming there were (1890) 21,362 women against 39,343 men, and 
in Colorado 80,000 more men than women, whereas in Massa- 
chusetts there were 63,000 more women than men. 

As regards Washington, a gentleman of standing resident 
there writes me that " few women took advantage of the bal- 
lot privilege, and most of them were greatly relieved that the 
responsibility was removed." 

Xo evidence has come in my way tending to show that 
politics are in Wyoming — there has been time to test the 
results in Colorado — or were in Washington substantially 
purer than in the adjoining States, though it is said that the 
polls are quieter. The most that seems to be alleged is that 
they are no worse; or, as the Americans express it, "Things 

1 In the pamphlet already cited. He observes that his informants never 
attempted to connect the frequency of divorces in Wyoming with the political 
equality of the sexes, conceiving this to have exercised no influence on the 
family life, nor led to domestic discord. " Political differences constitute one 
of the few domestic troubles which no State or Territory (so far) recognizes 
as just cause for dissolution of matrimony." 



nivr. \. vi WOMAN SUFFRAGE 667 

are wrv much what fchey were before, only more so."' The 
conditions of a small and scattered population such as thai <>! 
Wyoming (60,705 in L890) render its experience of slight 
value for such communities as the Eastern and Riiddle 

Stat 
Very recently it was proposed in the Convention which is 

now (Aii-nst. 1894) sitting to draft a new Constitution tor 
the State of New York, that a clause granting full suffrage 
to women should be inserted and submitted to the voters. 
Petitions signed by Large numbers of women were presented 
both for and against the proposal. The Convention, however, 
by a vote of \)7 to 68, refused even to submit the question, a 
result which is deemed to have seriously discouraged the 
movement so far as the Atlantic States are concerned. 

Wherever the suffrage or any other public right has been 
given, it is given equally to married and to unmarried women. 1 
No one dreams of drawing any distinctiou between the claims 
of the single and the married, or of making marriage entail dis- 
franchisement. To do so would be alien to the whole spirit of 
American legislation, and would indeed involve a much grosser 
anomaly or injustice than the exclusion of all women alike from 
political functions. This point, therefore, on which much con- 
troversy has arisen in England, has given no trouble in the 
United States : and, similarly, the Americans always assume 
that wherever women receive the right of voting at the election 
to any office, they become as a matter of course eligible for the 
office itself. In some cases eligibility for the office has preceded 
the gift of the suffrage. There are States in which women 
have no school suffrage, but are chosen to school offices ; and 
States (Massachusetts, for instance) in which they have no 
vote at municipal or State elections, but where they are placed 
on the State Board of Education or the Board of Prison Com- 
missioners. It would be deemed in the last degree illogical to 
give women municipal suffrage, and not allow a woman to be 
chosen Mayoress, to give State (and therewith congressional) 

1 In a few States, however (e.g. Indiana ami Oregon), school suffrage is 

limited to women who are heads ot families, because these only arc deemed to 

be interested in respecl of children ; and in a tew ('.>/. Michigan, Indiana,, and 

: there are property aualhlcationa of small amount attached to the 

Mffragein the case of women which are not required in the ca 

men. In Kentucky school suffrage is granted only tow jdows who ha\ e children. 



558 ILLUSTRATIONS AND REFLECTIONS part v 

suffrage and not allow a woman to enter both, the State legis- 
lature and Congress, to give suffrage at the presidential election 
and yet disqualify a woman for the Presidency of the United 
States. 1 And there is nothing now to prevent a woman being 
elected United States Senator from Wyoming (where five 
votes out of thirty-five were lately given for a woman candi- 
date) or from Colorado. 

"What," it will be asked, "are the forces by which the 
Woman's Rights movement is now pressed forward ? What 
are the arguments used to support it ? Are they of a theoret- 
ical or of a practical nature ? Is it on the ground of abstract 
justice and democratic principle that the battle is being fought, 
or is it alleged that women suffer from positive disabilities 
and hardships which, nothing but an equal share in political 
power will remove ? " 

Both, sets of arguments are employed; but those of a 
theoretical order seem to hold the chief place. In all or nearly 
all States married women have complete rights to their prop- 
erty ; in most, mothers have rights considerable, if not quite 
equal to those of fathers, in the guardianship of their children. 
Women enjoy the equal protection of the law and are admissi- 
ble to professions and the training needed for professions, 
while the laws of divorce, whatever may be said of them in 
other respects, are not more indulgent to husbands than to 
wives. Although therefore the advocates of woman suffrage 
expect some tangible legislative benefits to woman from her 
admission to the franchise, especially in the way of obtaining 
better protection for her and for children, the case on this 
side is not an urgent one, and does not excite much strength of 
feeling. No one who observes America can doubt that what- 
ever is deemed to be for the real benefit of women in the 
social and industrial sphere will be obtained for them from 
the good-will and sympathy of men, without the agency of the 
political vote. It is on grounds of abstract right, it is because 
the exclusion from political power is deemed in itself unjust 
and degrading, and is thought to place woman altogether on a 

1 Women are not unfrequently appointed to posts connected with legislative 
bodies. I found in Washington that they had been chosen to be clerks and 
messengers to one or other of the Houses of the then Territorial legislature. 
It appears to haye been held in Connecticut that a woman may be appointed 
pension agent ainl in Illinois that she may be a master in chancery. 



ni.vr. sen WOMAN SUFFRAGE 660 

lower level, that this exclusion is so warmly resented. It 
seems to be believed that a nobler ami more vigorous type of 
womanhood would he developed by the complete recognition 
of her equality, a wider and grander sphere of action opened 
to her efforts. Perhaps the commonest argument is contained 
in the question. " Why not ? What reason can you give, you 
whose forefathers revolted from England because representa- 
tion was not suffered to go with taxation, you who annually 
repeat the Declaration of Independence as if it were the 
Xicene Creed, you who twenty-five years ago enfranchised 
ignorant negroes, for excluding from the suffrage women who 
pay taxes, who are within the reason and meaning of the 
Declaration of 1776. who are far more intellectually and 
morally competent than the coloured millions of the South ? " 
This appeal, which becomes all the stronger as an argumentum 
ad hominem because the American man is exceptionally defer- 
ential to women, and the American statesman exceptionally 
disposed to comply with every request which is urgently 
pressed upon him, is the kernel of the suffragist case. How- 
ever, it derives no small practical aid from a practical consid- 
eration. The one question of current politics which heartily 
interests women is the question of restricting or prohibiting 
the sale of intoxicants. This is also the question which ex- 
cites not perhaps the widest yet certainly the keenest interest 
in the minds of a great host of male voters. The enemies of 
the liquor traffic have therefore a strong motive for desiring 
to see their voting power reinforced by those whose aid would 
secure victory ; and in fact Prohibitionist Conventions almost 
always declare in favour of woman suffrage. For a different 
reason, the Socialist and Labour parties, and to a considerable 
extent the Populists also, are disposed to support it, as indeed 
the Socialists usually do in Europe also. 

Yet it must not be supposed that the sentimental arguments 
are all on one side. There is a widespread apprehension that 
to bring women into politics might lower their social position, 
diminish men's deference for them, harden and roughen them , 
and. as it is expressed, "brush the bloom off the flowers." 
This feeling is at least as strong among women as among men, 
and some judicious observers think it is stronger now than it 
was twenty-five years ago. I am inclined to think, though of 



560 ILLUSTRATIONS AND REFLECTIONS part v 

course this is mere cqnjecture, that the proportion of women 
who desire the suffrage is smaller in America than in England. 
Of the many American ladies whose opinion I inquired, the 
enormous majority expressed themselves hostile ; and there has 
been formed a Women's Anti-Suffrage Association of America, 
which conducts an active agitation, whereas in England no sim- 
ilar organization has been ever created among either men or 
women. It is remarkable that the movement has in America 
found little support among what may be called the "upper 
classes." Woman suffragism has been, though perhaps less 
so now than formerly, thought " bad form," and supposed to 
betoken a want of culture and refinement. The same reproach 
attached forty years ago to Abolitionism. It has certainly been 
an injury to the cause that some few of its prominent advocates, 
disavowed no doubt by the great bulk of the suffrage party, have 
also advocated a general unsettlement of the relations between 
the sexes, and that a few others have been too masculine in their 
manners and discourse. The sentimental aversion to seeing 
women immersed in politics is all the greater, because " poli- 
tics " have a technical meaning which is repellent to refined 
Americans ; and the practical objection to doubling constituen- 
cies which are already enormous — a member of Congress repre- 
sents more than five times as many voters as an English member 
of Parliament — is strongly felt by philosophic publicists. Even 
those who desire to see the sale of intoxicants restricted feel 
doubts as to the expediency of attaining their object by the 
votes of women, because the difficulty of enforcing prohibitory 
legislation, already serious where the drinking minority is 
strong, would be much greater if a majority of men in favour 
of keeping bars and saloons open were overborne by a minorit}- 
of men turned into a majority by the votes of women. 

It is commonly assumed that, in a democratic country, all 
changes are towards a further extension of the suffrage, that 
democratic voters are like the unjust judge in the parable, and 
will yield to importunity what they might refuse to justice, 
in short, that whatever an active section continues to press 
for will sooner or later be conceded. But this assumption may 
be too hasty. True it is that so far the agitation for the grant 
of suffrage to women has been met by comparatively little in 
the way of counter agitation, that abstract democratic doctrine 



chap, mm WOMAN SUFFRACJK 661 



lias still power over the American mind, that the support of 
the Prohibitionist party is an important, factor in the problem. 
Vet who can toll whether the movement will evoke as much 

enthusiasm during the next thirty years as it lias done during 
the last thirty ? When t he group of Abolitionist leaders, alreai 1 y 
sadly thinned by death, pass finally off the stage, will men and 
women of equal ardour arise to fill their places '.' Will the 
Abolitionist spirit, which insisted on giving full political effect 
to the conception of equal human rights, be as intense in the 
next generation as in that which saw the horrors of slavery ? 
Will what may be called, in no disparaging sense, the senti- 
mental tendency in politics be as strong then as it is even 
to-day? The liquor question may possibly be settled, or at 
least so far settled as no longer to dominate politics; and 
other questions may come up, thrusting female suffrage into the 
background. The remarkable progress which the movement 
has made in England cheers its American adherents ; but it 
has some advantages in England which it wants in America. 
In England a section of the Liberal party, which is apt to be 
the party of theory and sentiment, has favoured it, because 
less afraid of change, and more disposed to admit every one to 
political power ; while the Tory party has latterly much more 
generally, though not universally, favoured it, in the belief that 
women are conservative in their tendencies, and would support 
the Established Church and established institutions generally. 
It has thus had the rare good fortune of drawing support from 
both camps, though for different reasons. But in America 
most of the leaders of both the great parties seem unfriendly 
(though the Democrats are more frequently hostile than the 
Republicans), perhaps because the introduction of a vast mass 
of new voters might strain the party machinery, and bring in 
an incalculable and therefore disagreeable element. Both 
parties already dislike the Prohibitionists, because they cut 
across the legitimate party organizations and contests : the 
introduction of women would, it is thought, aggravate this 
mischief. Some one may say that this ought to commend the 
suffrage movement to the Reforming or Independent party, 
which attacks the so-called " Machine Men " of both Republi- 
can s and Democrats. In point of fact, however, very few of 
the reformers advocate woman suffrage, apparently because 
vol. n 20 



562 ILLUSTRATIONS AND REFLECTIONS 



they are opposed to "sentimentalism," and think that "poli- 
tics," as now practised, would do more harm to women than 
women could possibly do good to politics. 

These are some of the reasons which make an impartial 
observer doubt whether full political suffrage, as distinguished 
from school or municipal suffrage, is likely to be granted to 
women in many States of the Union within the next thirty 
years, for of the remoter future it would be rash to speak. 
Still it must be remembered that considerable advances have 
been made, and that where any form of suffrage has been once 
granted it has never, except in Washington and in the wholly 
exceptional case of Utah, been withdrawn. The suffragists 
have some grounds for the confidence of victory they express. 
If they can bring the public opinion of women themselves over 
to their side, they will succeed. To a European observer the 
question seems one rather of social than of political moment. 
If he sees no reason to expect an improvement in politics from 
the participation of women in elections and their admission to 
Congress and to high political office, neither does he find much 
cause for fear. The results of universal suffrage may not 
greatly differ from those of manhood suffrage. Such misgiv- 
ings as he entertains are of a different nature. They are seri- 
ous, misgivings, and they are rendered not less serious by a 
study of the social changes which are passing upon the world 
in Europe as well as in America. 



CHAPTER XCVII 

THE SUPPOSED FAULTS OF DEMOCRACY 

The question which in one form or another every European 
politician has during the last half-century been asking about 
the United States, is the broad question, How does democracy 
answer ? Xo other country has tried the experiment of a 
democratic government on so large a scale, with so many 
minor variations, for the State governments are forty-four 
autonomous democracies, or with such advantages of geo- 
graphical position and material resources. And those who 
think that all civilized countries are moving towards democ- 
racy, even though they may not be destined to rest there, 
rind the question an important one for themselves. The reader 
who has followed thus far the account I have tried to give of 
the Federal Constitution and its working, of the State Consti- 
tutions, of local government, of the party machinery, of the 
influence of public opinion as a controlling power over all the 
institutions of the country, will be content with a compara- 
tively brief summary of the results to which the inquiries 
made under these heads point. 

That summary naturally falls into three parts. We have to 
ask first, how far the faults usually charged on democracy are 
present in America; next, what are the special faults which 
characterize itthere; last, what are the strong points which it 
has developed. 

The chief faults which philosophers, from Plato downwards 
to Mr. Robert Lowe, and popular writers repeating and carica- 
turing the dicta of philosophers, have attributed to democratic 
governments, are the following : — 

Weakness in emergencies, incapacity to act with prompti- 
tude and decision. 

Fickleness and instability, frequent changes of opinion, con- 

563 



564 ILLUSTRATIONS AND REFLECTIONS part v 

sequent changes in the conduct of affairs and in executive 
officials. 

Insubordination, internal dissensions, disregard of authority, 
with a frequent resort to violence, bringing on an anarchy which 
ends in military tyranny. 

A desire to level down, and an intolerance of greatness. 

Tyranny of the majority over the minority. 

A love of novelty : a passion for changing customs and de- 
stroying old institutions. 

Ignorance and folly, producing a liability to be deceived and 
misled ; consequent growth of demagogues playing on the 
passions and selfishness of the masses. 

I do not say that this list exhausts the reproaches directed 
against democracy, but it includes those which are most often 
heard and are best worth examining. Most of them are drawn 
from the history of the Greek republics of antiquity and the 
Italian republics of the Middle Ages, small communities where 
the conditions of social and political life were so different from 
those of a great modern country that we ought not to expect 
similar results to follow from political arrangements called by 
the same name. However, as this consideration has not pre- 
vented writers and statesmen, even in our own day, from re- 
peating the old censures, and indeed from mixing together in 
one repulsive potion all the faults that belonged to small 
aristocratic republics with all that can belong to large demo- 
cratic republics, it is worth while to examine these current 
notions, and try them by the light of the facts which America 
furnishes. 

Weakness and want of Promptitude. — The American democ- 
racy is long-suffering and slow in rousing itself ; it is often 
perplexed by problems, and seems to grope blindly for their 
solution. In the dealings with England and France which pre- 
ceded the war of a.d. 1812, and in the conduct of that war, its 
government showed some irresolution and sluggishness. The 
habit of blustering in its intercourse with foreign powers, and 
the internal strife over slavery, led Europeans to think it 
lacked firmness and vigour. They were undeceived in 1861. 
While it seemed possible to avert a breach with the Southern 
slave-holders, the North was willing to accept, and did accept, 
a series of compromises whose inadequacy was soon revealed. 



cnvr. KOTii SUPPOSED FAULTS OF DEMOCRACY 665 



The North was ill led iii Congress, and the South was boldly 
if not wisely Led. Fet when the crisis arrived, the North put 
forth its power with a suddenness and resolution which sur- 
prised the world. There was no faltering in the conduct of a 
straggle which for two long years French and English statesmen 
deemed hopeless. The best blood of the North freely offered 
itself to be shed on the battlefields of Virginia and Pennsylva- 
nia for the sake of the Union ; while an enormous debt was 
incurred iu equipping army after army. As every one knows, 
the Southern people displayed no less vigour even when the 
tide had evidently begun to turn against them, and the hope 
of European intervention died away. If want of force, dash, 
and courage in moments of danger is a defect generally charge- 
able on popular governments, it was not then chargeable on 
the United States. But the doctrine is one which finds little 
to support it either in ancient or in modern history, while 
there are many instances to the contrary : witness the war of 
the Swiss against Charles the Bold, and the defence of Florence 
against Charles the Fifth. 

Fickleness and Instability. — The indictment fails on this 
count also. The people are open to sudden impulses, and in 
particular States there have been ill-considered innovations 
and a readiness to try wild experiments, such as those I have 
described in California. But taking the nation as a whole, its 
character is marked by tenacity of beliefs and adherence to 
leaders once chosen. The opposite charge of stubbornness in 
refusing to be convinced by argument and to admit the failings 
of men who have established some title to gratitude, might 
more plausibly be preferred. Western farmers have been 
accustomed to suffer from the high price of the clothes they 
wear and the implements they use, but once imbibed the belief 
that a protective tariff makes for the general good of the 
country they remained protectionists down till 1890 ; and many 
among them remain so still. The blunders of President Grant's 
first administration, and the misdeeds of the knot of men who 
surrounded him, playing upon the political inexperience of a 
blunt soldier, scarcely affected the loyalty of the masses to 
the man whose sword had saved the Union. Congressmen 
and State officials are no doubt often changed, but they are 
changed in pursuance of a doctrine and a habit in which the 



566 ILLUSTRATIONS AND REFLECTIONS part v 

interests of a class are involved, not from any fickleness in 
the people. 1 

Insubordination and Contempt for Authority. — On this head 
the evidence is more conflicting. There arte .States, and cities, 
in which the laws are imperfectly enforced. Homicide is 
hardly a crime in some parts of the South — that is to say. a 
man who kills another is not always arrested, often not con- 
victed when arrested and put on his trial, very rarely hanged 
when convicted. 2 One might almost say that private war is 
recognized by opinion in these districts, as it was in Europe 
during the earlier AEiddle Ages. In the mountainous country 
of Eastern Kentucky, and the adjoining parts of Virginia and 
Tennessee, quarrels are kept up from generation to generation 
between hostile families and their respective friends, which 
the State authorities cannot succeed in repressing. In 1890, I 
was assured when passing the borders of that region, that in 
one such blood feud more than fifty persons had perished 
within the preceding ten years, each murder provoking another 
in revenge. When a judge goes into these parts it has some- 
times befallen that a party of men come down fully armed from 
the mountains, surround the court house, and either drive him 
away or oblige him to abandon the attempt to do justice on 
slayers belonging to their faction. In the West, again, particu- 
larly in such South-western States as Missouri. Arkansas, and 
Texas, brigandage seems to be regarded with a certain amuse- 
ment, rising into sympathy, by a part of the peaceable popu- 
lation. Having arisen partly out of the Border ruffianism which 
preceded the outbreak of the Civil War. partly among men who 
were constantly engaged in skirmishing with the Indian tribes, 
there is a flavour of romance about it, which ceases to gild the 
exploits of train-robbers only when their activity threatens the 
commercial interests of a rising city. Jesse James, the notori- 

1 See Chap. XX. iu Vol. I. 

2 Murder is not dealt with quite firmly enough even in some of the Xorthern 
States. '' There is no subject within the domain of legislation in which 
improvement is so needed as in the law against murder. The practical im- 
munity that crime enjoys in some sections of the country, and the delay, 
difficulty, and uncertainty in enforcing the law almost everywhere, is a re- 
proach to our civilization. Efforts to save assassins from punishment are so 
strenuous, the chances of escape so numerous, and the proceedings so pro- 
tracted, that the law has tew terrors for those disposed to violate it." — 
Address of Mr. E. J. Phelps to the American Bar Association, 1881. 



chap.xcvii SUPPOSED FAULTS <>F DEMOCRACY 567 



ous bandit of Missouri, and his brothers, were popular heroes 
in the region they infested, much like Robin Hood and Little 
John in the ballads of the thirteenth century in England. 
These phenomena are, however, explicable by other causes than 
democratic government. The homicidal habits of the South 
art 1 a relic of that semi-barbarism which slavery kept alive long- 
after the northern free States had reached the level of Euro- 
pean order. The want of a proper police is apparently the 
cause answerable for the numerous train-robberies. Even in 
such States as Illinois and Ohio, robberies occur, which are de- 
tected and punished more frequently by the energy of the rail- 
road or express (parcel delivery) companies and their skilled 
detectives than through the action of the State authorities. 
Brigandage is due to the absence of a mounted gendarmerie in 
the vast and thinly peopled Further West, and there is no 
gendarmerie because the Federal government leaves the States 
and Territories to create their own, and these unsettled com- 
munities, being well armed, prefer to take care of themselves 
rather than spend their scanty corporate funds on a task whose 
cost would, as they think, be disproportionate to the result. 1 In 
the western wilds of Canada, however, the mounted police secures 
perfect safety for wayfarers and train-robberies seem to be 
unknown. 

Lynch law is not unknown in more civilized regions, such 
as Indiana and (more rarely) Ohio. A case occurred recently 
not far from New York City. Now lynch law, however shock- 
ing it may seem to Europeans and New En glanders, is far 
removed from arbitrary violence. According to the testimony 
of careful observers, it is not often abused, and its proceedings 
are generally conducted with some regularity of form as well 
as fairness of spirit. What are the circumstances ? Those 
highly technical rules of judicial procedure and still more 
technical rules of evidence which America owes to the English 
common law, and which have in some States retained anti- 
quated minutiae now expunged from English practice, or been 
rendered by new legislation too favourable to prisoners, have 
to be applied in districts where population is thin, where 
there are very few officers, either for the apprehension of 

1 There is always a sheriff, whose business it is to pursue criminals, and 
hang them if convicted, but much depends on his individual vigour. 



568 ILLUSTRATIONS AND REFLECTIONS part v 

offenders, or for the hunting up of evidence against them, 
and where, according to common belief, both judges and juries 
are occasionally " squared " or " got at." Many crimes would 
go unpunished if some more speedy and efficient method of 
dealing with them were not adopted. This method is found 
in a volunteer jury, summoned by the leading local citizens, or 
in very clear cases, by a simple seizure and execution of the 
criminal. 1 Why not create an efficient police ? Because crime 
is uncommon in many districts — in such districts, for in- 
stance, as Michigan or rural Wisconsin — and the people have 
deliberately concluded that it is cheaper and simpler to take 
the law into their own hands on those rare occasions when a 
police is needed than to be at the trouble of organizing and 
paying a force for which there is usually no employment. If 
it be urged that they are thus forming habits of lawlessness 
in themselves, the Americans reply that experience does not 
seem to make this probable, because lawlessness does not in- 
crease among the farming population, and has disappeared 
from places where the rudeness or simplicit}^ of society 
formerly rendered lynch law necessary. Cases however occur 
for which no such excuse can be offered, cases in which a 
prisoner (probably a negro) already in the hands of justice is 
seized and put to death by a mob. And within the last few 
years there has been in several States, and notably in parts 
of Southern Indiana, — a high, rough, wooded country, with a 
backward and scattered population, — a strange recrudescence 
of lynching in the rise of the so-called White Caps, people 
who seize by night men or women who have given offence by 
their immoral life or other vices, drag them into the woods, flog 
them severely, and warn them to quit the neighbourhood forth- 
with. The legislature of Indiana has been considering a plan 
for checking this practice by making the county in which such 
an outrage occurs liable in damages to the person maltreated. 
Similar outrages are often reported from other States to the 
south-west of Indiana, as far as Mississippi. In Ohio they 
were promptly repressed by an energetic governor. 

1 The savageness which occasionally appears in these lynchings is surpris- 
ing to one who knows the general kindliness of the American people. Not 
long ago the people of East Kentucky hunted for a murderer to hum him to 
death, and the White Cap outrages are sometimes accompanied by revolting 
cruelty. 



CHAP, xcvn SUPPOSED FAULTS OF DEMOCRACY 5G9 

The so-called "Molly Maguire" oonspiracy, which vexed 
and terrified Pennsylvania for several years, showed the want 
of a vigorous and highly trained police. A sort of secret 
society organized a succession of murders, much like the 
Italian Camona. which remained undetected till a daring 
man succeeded in persuading the conspirators to admit him 
among them. He shared their schemes, and learnt to know 
their persons and deeds, then turned upon them and brought 
them to justice. This remarkable case illustrates not any 
neglect of law or tenderness for crime, but mainly the power 
of a combination which can keep its secrets. Once detected, 
the Molly Maguires were severely dealt with. The Pittsburg 
riots of 1877, and the Cincinnati riots of 1884, alarmed the 
Americans themselves, so long accustomed to domestic tran- 
quillity as to have forgotten those volcanic forces which lie 
smouldering in all ignorant masses, ready to burst forth upon 
sufficient excitement. The miners and ironworkers of the 
Pittsburg district are rough fellows, many of them recent 
immigrants who have not yet acquired American habits of 
order ; nor would there have been anything to distinguish this 
Pennsylvanian disturbance from those which happen during 
strikes in England, as, for instance, at Blackburn, some years 
ago, and during the recent coal strike at one or two places in 
Yorkshire and Derbyshire, or in times of distress in France, 
as at Decazeville in 1886, had it been promptly suppressed. 
Unfortunately there was no proper force on the spot. The 
governor was absent; the mayor and other local authorities 
lost their heads; the police, feebly handled, were overpowered; 
the militia showed weakness ; so that the riot spread in a way 
which surprised its authors, and the mob raged for several 
days along the railroads in several States, and over a large 
area of manufacturing and mining towns. 

The moral of this event was the necessity, even in a land of 
freedom, of keeping a force strong enough to repress tumults 
in their first stage. The Cincinnati riot began in an attempt 
to lynch two prisoners who were thought likely to escape the 
punishment they richly deserved ; and it would probably have 
ended there had not the floating rabble of this city of 300,000 
inhabitants seized the opportunity to do a little pillage and 
make a great noise on their own account. Neither sedition 



570 ILLUSTRATIONS AND REFLECTIONS part v 

had any political character, nor indeed any specific object, 
except that the Pennsylvanian mob showed special enmity to 
the railroad company. 

Still more recently (1892) the same moral has been enforced 
by the strike riots on some of the railroads in New York 
State and in the mining regions of Idaho, by the local wars 
between cattlemen and " rustlers " in Wyoming, by the disturb- 
ances at the Homestead works in Pennsylvania, and by the 
sanguinary conflict which arose at the convict-worked mines 
in Tennessee, where a mob of miners attacked the stockades 
in which were confined convicts kept at labour under contracts 
between the State and private mine-owners, liberated many of 
the convicts, captured and were on the point of hanging an 
officer of the State militia, and were with difficulty at last 
repressed by a strong militia force. Such tumults are not 
specially products of democracy, but they are unhappily proofs 
that democracy does not secure the good behaviour of its worse 
and newest citizens, and that it must be prepared, no less than 
other governments, to maintain order by the prompt and stern 
application of physical force. 1 

It is a regrettable evidence of the extent to which public 
authorities have seemed to abnegate the function of main- 
taining order that the habit has grown up among railroad 
directors and the owners of other large enterprises of hiring 
a private armed force to protect, at the time of a strike, not 
only the workmen they bring in to replace the strikers, but 
also their yards, works, and stock in trade. A firm which 
began business as a private detective agency has for years past 
been accustomed to supply for this purpose bodies of men well 
trained and drilled, who can be relied on to defend the place 
allotted to them against a greatly superior force of rioters. 
This firm keeps not less than one thousand men permanently 
on a war footing, and sends them hither and thither over the 
country to its customers. They are usually sworn in as Sher- 
iff's deputies, on each occasion before the proper local authority. 
So frequent has been the employment of " Pinkerton's men," as 

1 There is a great difference between different States and cities as regards 
police arrangements. The police of New York City are efficient and indeed 
somewhat too promptly severe in the use of their staves; and in many cities 
the police are armed with revolvers. 



OHAP.xcYiJ SUPPOSED FAULTS OF DEMOCRACY 571 

they are called (though it is not always from Messrs. Pinkerton 
of Chicago that they are obtained, and the name, like Delmon- 
ico, seems to be passing from a proper into a common noun), 
that some new State constitutions (e.g. Wyoming, Idaho, 
Montana, Washington, Kentucky) and statutes in other States 
[e.g. Massachusetts) expressly prohibit the bringing of armed 
men into the State, and a Committee of Congress has recently 
been investigating the subject, so far without result, for it is 
going a long way to forbid a man by statute to hire persons 
to help him to protect his property when lie finds it in danger, 
although bills with this object have been introduced into State 
legislatures. These strike cases are of course complicated by 
the fear of a State governor or a mayor to make himself or his 
party unpopular by taking strong measures against a crowd 
who have votes. Here we touch a difficulty specially incident 
to a directly elected Executive, — a difficulty noted already in 
the cases of elected judges and elected tax-officers, and one 
which must be taken into account in striking the balance be- 
tween the good and the evil of a system of direct and pervading 
popular control. The remedy is doubtless to be sought, and 
will in extreme cases be found, in the displeasure of the good 
citizens, who, after all, form the voting majority. But it is 
a remedy which may follow r with too tardy steps. Meantime, 
many large employers of labour find themselves obliged to 
defend their property by these condottieri, because they cannot 
rely on the defence which the State ought to furnish, and the 
condottieri themselves, who seem to be generally men of good 
character as well as proved courage, are so much hated by the 
workmen as to be sometimes in danger of being lynched when 
found alone or in small parties. 1 

One hears in some States of laws which are systematically 
evaded, sometimes by the connivance of officials who are im- 
properly induced to abstain from prosecuting transgressors, 
sometimes with the general consent of the community which 
perceives that they cannot be enforced. Thus some years ago 
the laws against the sale of liquor on Sundays in the city of 
Chicago were not enforced. The bulk of the population, being 

1 It is probably this popular hostility to the employment of Pinkerton 's men, 
stimulated by the collision at Homestead, that has caused them to figure but 
little iu the most recent strike troubles. 



572 ILLUSTRATIONS AND REFLECTIONS part v 

German and Irish, disliked them, and showed its dislike by 
turning out of the municipal offices those who had enforced 
them, while yet the law remained on the statute-book because, 
according to the Constitution of Illinois (one of the most 
experimental of the newer constitutions, as appears from its 
adoption of minority voting), it takes a majority of two-thirds 
in the legislature to repeal an Act ; and the rural members, 
being largely Prohibitionists, stand by this law against Sunday 
dealing. When in Texas I heard of the same thing as happen- 
ing in the city of San Antonio, and doubt not that it occurs 
in many cities. More laws are quietly suffered to be broken 
in America than in England, France, or Germany. On the other 
hand, it is fair to say that the credit which the Americans 
claim of being pre-eminently a law-abiding people is borne out 
by the general security of property and person which, apart 
from the cases of strikes, mentioned above, the traveller 
remarks over the East, most of the Middle States, and the 
more thickly peopled parts of the West. 1 Political disturb- 
ances are practically unknown outside some few of the Southern 
States, where there are occasional collisions between whites 
and negroes, nor are they frequent or virulent in those States. 
Even when an election is believed to have been fraudulently 
won, the result is respected, because it is externally regular. 
Eights seldom occur at elections ; neither party disturbs the 
meetings or processions of the other in the hottest presiden- 
tial campaign. Such a series of disturbances as London and 
Lancashire saw in the beginning of 1882, when the meetings 
of a number of members of Parliament with their constituents 
were broken up by Irishmen, or party opponents masquerading 
as Irishmen, or such another series as marked the close of the 
agitation on the Franchise Bill in 1884, excites the wonder of 
Americans, who ask whether Englishmen can be fit for free 
government when they have not yet learnt to let their oppo- 
nents meet and talk in peace. 

The habit of obedience to constituted authority is another 
test, and one which Plato would have considered specially con- 
clusive. The difficulty of applying it in America is that there 

1 There is little use in comparing the aggregate of crimes reported and of 
convictions with the aggregates of European countries, because in disorderly 
regions many crimes go unreported as well as unpunished. 



chap, xcvn SUPPOSED FAULTS <>f DEMOCRACY 678 

are so few officials who come into bhe relation of command 

with the people, or in other words, that the people are so lit- 
tle "governed," in the French or German si-use. that one has 
few opportunities of discovering how they comport themselves. 
The officers of both the Federal and the State governments, in 
levying taxes and carrying- out the judgments of the Conrts, 
have seldom any resistance to fear, except in such regions as 
those already referred to, where the fierce mountaineers will not 
brook interference with their vendetta, or surfer the Federal 
excisemen to do their duty. These regions are, however, 
quite exceptional, forming a sort of enclave of semi-barbarism 
in a civilized country, such as the rugged Albania was in the 
Roman Empire. Other authorities experience no difficulty in 
making themselves respected. A railroad company, for in- 
stance, finds its passengers only too submissive. They endure 
with a patience which astonishes Englishmen frequent irregu- 
larities of the train service and other discomforts, which 
would in England produce a whole crop of letters to the news- 
papers. The discipline of 'the army and navy in the war was 
nearly as strict as in European armies. So in universities 
and colleges discipline is maintained with the same general 
ease and the same occasional troubles as arise in Oxford and 
Cambridge. The children in the city schools are proverbially 
docile. Except when strikes occur, employers do not complain 
of any trouble in keeping order among their workpeople while 
at work. So far, indeed, is insubordination from being a char- 
acteristic of the native Americans, that they are conspicuously 
the one free people of the world which, owing to its superior 
intelligence, has recognized the permanent value of order, and 
observes it on even r occasion, not least when a sudden alarm 
arises. Anarchy is of all dangers or bugbears the one which 
the modern world has least cause to fear, for the tendency of 
ordinary human nature to obey is the same as in past times, 
and the aggregation of human beings into great masses weakens 
the force of the individual will, and makes men more than 
ever like sheep, so far as action is concerned. Much less, 
therefore, is there ground for fancying that out of anarch}' 
there will grow any tyranny of force. Whether democracies 
may not end in yielding greater power to their executives is 
quite another question, where >f more anon ; all I observe here 



574 ILLUSTRATIONS AND REFLECTIONS tart v 

is that in no country can a military despotism, such as that 
which has twice prevailed in France and once in England, be 
deemed less likely to arise. During the Civil War there were 
many persons in Europe cultivating, as Gibbon says, the name 
without the temper of philosophy, who predicted that some 
successful leader of the Northern armies would establish his 
throne on the ruins of the Constitution. But no sooner had 
General Lee surrendered at Appomatox than the disbandment 
of the victorious host began ; and the only thing which there- 
after distinguished Generals Grant, Sherman, and Sheridan 
from their fellow-citizens was the liability to have "recep- 
tions" forced on them when they visited a city, and find their 
puissant arms wearied by the handshakings of their enthusi- 
astic admirers. 

Csesarism is the last danger likely to menace America. In 
no nation is civil order more stable. None is more averse to 
the military spirit. No political system would offer a greater 
resistance to an attempt to create a standing army or centralize 
the administration. 

Jealousy of Greatness, and a Desire to Level Down. — This 
charge derives a claim to respectful consideration from the 
authority of Tocqueville, who thought it a necessary attribute 
of democracy, and professed to have discovered symptoms of it 
in the United States. It alarmed J. S. Mill, and has been fre- 
quently dwelt on by his disciples, and by many who have 
adopted no other part of his teachings, as an evil equally inevit- 
able and fatal in democratic countries. There was probably 
good ground for it sixty years ago. Even now one discovers a 
tendency in the United States, particularly in the West, to 
dislike, possibly to resent, any outward manifestation of social 
superiority. A man would be ill looked upon who should build 
a castle in a park, surround his pleasure-grounds with a high 
wall, and receive an exclusive society in gilded saloons. One of 
the parts which prominent politicians, who must be assumed to 
know their business, most like to play is the part of Cincinnatus 
at the plough, or Curius Dentatus receiving the Samnite envoys 
over his dinner of turnips. They welcome a newspaper inter- 
viewer at their modest farm, and take pains that he should 
describe how simply the rooms are furnished, and how little 
" help " (i.e. how few servants) is kept. Although the cynics of 



CHAP, xrvn SUPPOSED FAULTS OF DEMOCRACY 575 

the New York press make a mock of such artless ways, the 
desired impression is produced on the farmer and the artisan. 
At a senatorial election not long ago in a North-western State, 
the opponents of the sitting candidate procured a photograph 
of his residence in Washington, a handsome mansion in a fash- 
ionable avenue, and circulated it among the members of the 
State legislature, to show in what luxury their Federal repre- 
sentative indulged. I remember to have heard it said of a 
statesman proposing to become a candidate for the Presidency, 
that he did not venture during the preceding year to occupy 
his house in Washington; lest he should give occasion for simi- 
lar criticism. Whether or not this was his real motive, the 
attribution of it to him is equally illustrative. But how little 
the wealthy fear to display their w r ealth and take in public the 
pleasures it procures may be understood by any one who, walk- 
ing down Fifth Avenue in New York, observes the superb 
houses which line it, houses whose internal decorations and 
collected objects of art rival those of the palaces of European 
nobles, or who watches in Newport, the most fashionable of 
transatlantic watering-places, the lavish expenditure upon ser- 
vants, horses, carriages, and luxuries of every kind. No spot 
in Europe conveys an equal impression of the lust of the eyes 
and the pride of life, of boundless wealth and a boundless 
desire for enjoyment, as does the Ocean Drive at Newport on 
an afternoon in August. 

Intellectual eminence excites no jealousy, though it is more 
admired and respected than in Europe. The men who make 
great fortunes, such as the late Mr. A. T. Stewart, or " Commo- 
dore " Vanderbilt, are not regarded with suspicion or envy, but 
rather with admiration. " When thou doest good unto thyself, 
all men shall speak well of thee." Wealth does not, as in Eng- 
land, give its possessors an immediate entree to fashionable 
society, but it marks them as the heroes and leaders of 
the commercial world, and sets them on a pinnacle of fame 
which fires the imagination of ambitious youths in dry goods 
stores or traffic clerks on a railroad. The demonstrations of 
hostility to wealthy " monopolists," and especially to rail- 
road companies, made in some districts, are prompted, not 
by hatred to prominence or wealth, but by discontent at the 
immense power which capitalists exercise, especially in the 



576 ILLUSTRATIONS AND REFLECTIONS part v 

business of transporting goods, and which they have fre- 
quently abused. 

Tyranny of the Majority. — Of this I have spoken in a previ- 
ous chapter, and need only summarize the conclusions there 
arrived at. So far as compulsive legislation goes, it has never 
been, and is now less than ever, a serious or widespread evil. 
The press is free to advocate unpopular doctrines, even the 
most brutal forms of anarchism. Religious belief and practices 
are untouched by law. The sale of intoxicants is no doubt in 
many places restricted or forbidden, but to assume that this is 
a tyrannical proceeding is to beg a question on which the wise 
are much divided. The taxation of the rich for the benefit of 
the poor offers the greatest temptation to a majority disposed 
to abuse its powers. But neither Congress nor the State legis- 
latures have, with a very few exceptions, gone any farther in 
this direction than the great nations of Europe. I maybe told 
that this abstention from legislative tyranny is due, not to the 
wisdom and fairness of the American democracy, but to the 
restraints which the Federal and State constitutions impose 
upon it. These restraints do, no doubt, exist. But who im- 
pose and maintain them ? The people themselves, who surely 
deserve the credit of desiring to remove from their own path 
temptations which might occasionally prove irresistible. It is 
true that the conditions have been in some points exceptionally 
favourable. Class hatreds are absent. The two great national 
parties are not class parties. Taking the whole country, rich 
and poor are equally represented in both of these parties. 
Neither proposes to overtax the rich. Both denounce monop- 
olism in the abstract, and promise to restrain capital from 
abusing its power, but neither is more forward than the other 
to take practical steps for such a purpose, because each includes 
capitalists whose contributions the party needs, and each 
equally leans upon the respectable and wealthy classes, — the 
Republicans more particularly on those classes in the North, 
the Democrats on the same classes in the South. Party divi- 
sions do not coincide with social or religious divisions, as has 
often happened in Europe. 

Moreover, in State politics — and it is in the State rather 
than in the Federal sphere that attacks on a minority might 
be feared — the lines on which parties act are fixed by the 



chap, xrvu SUPPOSED FAULTS OF DEMOCRACY 677 

lines which separate the national parties, and each party is 
therefore held back from professing doctrines which menace 
the interests of any class. The only exceptions occur where 
some burning economic question supersedes for the moment 
the regular party attachments. This happened in California, 
with the consequences already described. It came near hap- 
pening in two or three of the North-western Stairs, such as 
Illinois and Wisconsin, where the farmers, organized in their 
Granges or agricultural clubs, caused the legislatures to pass 
statutes which- bore hardly on the railroads and the owners of 
elevators and grain warehouses. Similar attempts have been 
more recently made by the so-called Populists. Yet even this 
kind of legislation can scarcely be called tyrannical. It is an 
attempt, however clumsy and abrupt, to deal with a real eco- 
nomical mischief, not an undue extension of the scope of legis- 
lation to matters in which majorities ought not to control 
minorities at all. 

Love of Novelty ; Passion for destroying Old Institutions. — It 
is easy to see how democracies have been credited with this 
tendency. They have risen out of oligarchies or aristocratic 
monarchies, the process of their rise coinciding, if not always 
with a revolution, at least with a breaking down of many old 
usages and institutions. It is this very breaking down that 
gives birth to them. Probably some of the former institutions 
are spared, are presently found incompatible with the new order 
of things, and then have to be changed till the people has, so 
to speak, furnished its house according to its taste. But when 
the new order has been established, is there any ground for 
believing that a democracy is an exception to the general ten- 
dency of mankind to adhere to the customs they have formed, 
admire the institutions they have created, and even bear the 
ills they know rather than incur the trouble of finding some 
way out of them ? The Americans are not an exception. They 
value themselves only too self-complacently on their methods 
of government ; they abide by their customs, because they 
admire them. They love novelty in the sphere of amuse- 
ment, literature, and social life ; but in serious matters, such 
as the fundamental institutions of government and in re- 
ligious belief, no progressive and civilized people is more 
conservative. 

VOL. II 2 p 



578 ILLUSTRATIONS AND REFLECTIONS part v 

Liability to be misled; Influence of Demagogues. — No doubt 
the inexperience of the recent immigrants, the want of trained 
political thought among the bulk even of native citizens, the 
tendency to sentimentalism which marks all large masses of 
men, do lay the people open to the fallacious reasoning and 
specious pursuasions of adventurers. This happens in all popu- 
larly governed countries ; and a phenomenon substantially the 
same occurs in oligarchies, for you may have not only aristo- 
cratic demagogues, but demagogues playiug to an aristocratic 
mob. Stripped of its externals and considered in its essential 
features, demagogism is no more abundant in America than in 
England, France, or Italy. Empty and reckless declaimers, 
such as are some of those who have figured in the Granger 
and Populist movements (for sincere and earnest men have 
shared in both), are allowed to talk themselves hoarse, and 
ultimately relapse into obscurity. A demagogue of greater 
talent may aspire to some high executive office ; if not to the 
Presidency, then perhaps to a place in the Cabinet, where he 
may practically pull the wires of a President whom he has 
put into the chair. Eailing either of these, he aims at the 
governorship of his State or the mayoralty of a great city. 
In no one of these positions is it easy for him to do perma- 
nent mischief. The Federal executive has no influence on 
legislation, and even in foreign policy and in the making of 
appointments requires the consent of the Senate. That any 
man should acquire so great a hold on the country as to secure 
the election of two Houses of Congress subservient to his w r ilj[, 
while at the same time securing the Presidency or Secretary- 
ship of State for himself, is an event too improbable to enter 
into calculation. Nothing approaching it has been seen since 
the days of Jackson. The size of the country, the differences 
between the States, a hundred other causes, make achievements 
possible enough in a European country all but impossible here. 
That a plausible adventurer should clamber to the presidential 
chair, and when seated there should conspire with a corrupt 
congressional ring, purchasing by the gift of offices and by 
jobs their support for his own schemes of private cupidity or 
public mischief, is conceivable, but improbable. The system 
of counter-checks in the Federal government, which impedes 
or delays much good legislation, may be relied on to avert 



hap. xcvii SUPPOSED FAULTS OF DEMOCRACY -u ( .) 



many of the dangers to which the sovereign chambers of Euro- 
pean countries are exposed. 

A demagogue installed as governor of a State — and it is 
usually in State polities that demagogism appears — has but 
limited opportunities for wrong-doing. He can make a few 
bad appointments, and can discredit the commonwealth by 
undignified acts. He cannot seriously harm it. Two politi- 
cians who seem to deserve the title recently obtained that 
honourable post in two great Eastern States. One of them, a 
typical " ringster," perpetrated some jobs, tampered with some 
elections, and vetoed some good bills. Venturing too far, he at 
last involved his party in an ignominious defeat. The other, a 
man of greater natural gifts and greater capacity for mischief, 
whose capture of the chief magistracy of the State had drawn 
forth lamentations from the better citizens, left things much 
as he found them, and the most noteworthy incident which 
marked his year of office — for he was turned out at the next 
election — was the snub administered by the leading university 
in the State, which refused him the compliment, usually paid 
to the chief magistrate, of an honorary degree of Doctor of 
Laws. 

This inquiry has shown us that of the faults traditionally 
attributed to democracy one only is fairly chargeable on the 
United States ; that is to say, is manifested there more con- 
spicuously than in the constitutional monarchies of Europe. 
This is the disposition to be lax in enforcing laws disliked by 
any large part of the population, to tolerate breaches of public 
order, and to be too indulgent to offenders generally. The 
Americans themselves admit this to be one of their weak 
points. How far it is due to that deficient reverence for law 
which is supposed to arise in popular governments from the 
fact that the people have nothing higher than themselves to 
look up to, how far to the national easy-goingness and good- 
nature, how far to the prejudice against the maintenance of 
an adequate force of military and police and to the optimism 
which refuses to recognize the changes brought by a vast 
increase of population, largely consisting of immigrants, these 
are points 1 need not attempt to determine. It has produced 
no general disposition to lawlessness, which rather tends to 
diminish in the older parts of the country. And it is some- 



580 ILLUSTRATIONS AND REFLECTIONS part v 

times (though not always) replaced in a serious crisis by a 
firmness in repressing disorders which some European govern- 
ments may envy. Men who are thoroughly awakened to the 
need for enforcing the law, enforce it all the more resolutely 
because it has the whole weight of the people behind it. 



CHAPTER XCVIII 

THE TRUE FAULTS OF AMERICAN DEMOCRACY 

We have seen that the defects commonly attributed to demo- 
cratic government are not specially characteristic of the United 
States. It remains to inquire what are the peculiar blemishes 
which the country does show. So far as regards the constitu- 
tional machinery of the Federal and of the State government 
this question has been answered in earlier chapters. It is 
now rather the tendency of the institutions generally, the dis- 
position and habits of the governing people, that we have to 
consider. The word Democracy is often used to mean a spirit 
or tendency, sometimes the spirit of revolution, sometimes the 
spirit of equality. For our present purpose it is better to 
take it as denoting simply a form of government, that in which 
the numerical majority rules, deciding questions of state by 
the votes, whether directly, as in the ancient republics, or 
mediately, as in modern representative government, of the 
body of citizens, the citizens being if not the whole, at least a 
very large proportion of the adult males. The inquiry may 
begin with the question, What are the evils to which such a 
form of government is by its nature exposed ? and may then 
proceed to ascertain whether any other defects exist in the 
United States government which, though traceable to democ- 
racy, are not of its essence, but due to the particular form 
which it has there taken. 

It is an old maxim that republics live by Virtue — that is, 
by the maintenance of a high level of public spirit and justice 
among the citizens. If the republic be one in which power is 
confined to, or practically exercised by, a small educated class, 
the maintenance of this high level is helped by the sense 
of personal dignity which their position engenders. If the 
republic itself be small, and bear rule over others, patriotism 



582 ILLUSTRATIONS AND REFLECTIONS part v 

may be intense, and the sense of the collective dignity of the 
state may ennoble the minds of the citizens, make them will- 
ing to accept sacrifices for its sake, to forego private interests 
and suppress private resentments, in order to be strong against 
the outer world. But if the state be very large, and the rights 
of all citizens equal, we must not expect them to rise above 
the average level of human nature. Rousseau and Jefferson 
will tell us that this level is high, that the faults which gov- 
ernments have hitherto shown are due to the selfishness of 
privileged persons and classes, that the ordinary unsophisti- 
cated man will love justice, desire the good of others, need no 
constraint to keep him in the right path. Experience will 
contradict them, and whether it talks of Original Sin or adopts 
some less scholastic phrase, will recognize that the tendencies 
to evil in human nature are not perhaps as strong, but as vari- 
ous and abiding even in the most civilized societies, as its 
impulses to good. Hence the rule of numbers means the rule 
of ordinary mankind, without those artificial helps which their 
privileged position has given to limited governing classes, 
though also, no doubt, without those special temptations which 
follow in the wake of power and privilege. 

Since every question that arises in the conduct of govern- 
ment is a question either of ends or of means, errors may be 
committed by the ruling power either in fixing on wrong ends 
or in choosing wrong means to secure those ends. It is now, 
after long resistance by those who maintained that they knew 
better what was good for the people than the people knew 
themselves, at last agreed that as the masses are better judges 
of what will conduce to their own happiness than are the classes 
placed above them, they must be allowed to determine ends. 
This is in fact the essence of free or popular government, and 
the justification for vesting power in numbers. But assuming 
the end to be given, who is best qualified to select the means 
for its accomplishment ? To do so needs in many cases a 
knowledge of the facts, a skill in interpreting them, a power 
of forecasting the results of measures, unattainable by the 
mass of mankind. Such knowledge is too high for them. It 
is attainable only by trained economists, legists, statesmen. 
If the masses attempt it they will commit mistakes not less 
serious than those which befall a litigant who insists on con- 



obap. xcviu run: faults OF American democracy 583 

ducting a complicated ease instead of leaving it to his attorney 
and counsel. But in popular governments this distinction be- 
tween ends and means is apt to be forgotten. Often it is one 
which cannot be sharply drawn, because some ends are means 
to larger ends, and some means are desired not only for the 
sake of larger ends, but for their own sakes also. And the 
habit of trusting its own wisdom and enjoying its own power, 
in which the multitude is encouraged by its leaders and ser- 
vants, disposes it to ignore the distinction even where the 
distinction is clear, and makes it refer to the direct arbitra- 
ment of the people matters which the people are unlit to 
decide, and which they might safely leave to their trained 
ministers or representatives. Thus we find that the direct 
government of the multitude may become dangerous not only 
because the multitude shares the faults and follies of ordinary 
human nature, but also because it is intellectually incompetent 
for the delicate business of conducting the daily work of admin- 
istration, i.e. of choosing and carrying out with vigour and 
promptitude the requisite executive means. The People, 
though we think of a great entity when we use the word, 
means nothing more than so many millions of individual men. 
There is a sense in which it is true that the people are wiser 
than the wisest man. But what is true of their ultimate 
judgment after the lapse of time sufficient for full discussion, 
is not equally true of decisions that have to be promptly 
taken. 

What are the consequences which we may expect to follow 
from these characteristics of democracy and these conditions 
under which it is forced to work? 

First, a certain commonness of mind and tone, a want of 
dignity and elevation in and about the conduct of public affairs, 
an insensibility to the nobler aspects and finer responsibilities 
of national life. 

Secondly, a certain apathy among the luxurious classes and 
fastidious minds, who find themselves of no more account than 
the ordinary voter, and are disgusted by the superficial vul- 
garities of public life. 

Thirdly, a want of knowledge, tact, and judgment in the 
details of legislation, as well as in administration, with an 
inadequate recognition of the difficulty of these kinds of work, 



584 ILLUSTRATIONS AND REFLECTIONS part v 

and of the worth of special experience and skill in dealing 
with them. Because it is incompetent, the multitude will not 
feel its incompetence, and will not seek or defer to the coun- 
sels of those who possess the requisite capacity. 

Fourthly, laxity in the management of public business. The 
persons entrusted with such business being only average men, 
thinking themselves and thought of by others as average men, 
and not rising to a due sense of their responsibilities, may suc- 
cumb to the temptations which the control of legislation and 
the public funds present, in cases where persons of a more 
enlarged view and with more of a social reputation to support 
would remain incorruptible. To repress such derelictions of 
duty is every citizen's duty, but for that reason it is in large 
communities apt to be neglected. Thus the very causes which 
implant the mischief favour its growth. 

The above-mentioned tendencies are all more or less observa- 
ble in the United States. As each of them has been described 
already in its proper place, a summary reference may here be 
sufficient to indicate their relation to the democratic form of 
government and to the immanent spirit or theory which lies 
behind that form. 

The tone of public life is lower than one expects to find it 
in so great a nation. Just as we assume that an individual 
man will at any supreme moment in his own life rise to a 
higher level than that on which he usually moves, so we look 
to find those who conduct the affairs of a great state inspired 
by a sense of the magnitude of the interests entrusted to them. 
The in horizon ought to be expanded, their feeling of duty 
quickened, their dignity of attitude enhanced. Human nature 
with all its weaknesses does show itself capable of being thus 
roused on its imaginative side; and in Europe, where the 
traditions of aristocracy survive, everybody condemns as mean 
or unworthy acts done or language held by a great official 
which would pass unnoticed in a private citizen. It is the 
principle of noblesse oblige with the sense of duty and trust 
substituted for that of mere hereditary rank. 

Such a sentiment is comparatively weak in America. A 
cabinet minister, or senator, or governor of a State, sometimes 
even a President, hardly feels himself more bound by it than 
the director of a railway company or the mayor of a town does 



ciiAr. x( vin TRUE FAULTS OF AMERICAN DEMOCRACY 585 

in Europe. Not assuming himself to be individually wiser, 
stronger, or better than his fellow-citizens, he acts and speaks 
as though he were still simply one of them, and so far from 
magnifying his office and making it honourable, seems anxious 
to show that he is the mere creature of the popular vote, so 
filled by the sense that it is the people and not he who governs 
as to fear that he should be deemed to have forgotten his 
personal insignificance. There is in the United States abun- 
dance of patriotism, that is to say, of a passion for the great- 
ness and happiness of the Republic, and a readiness to make 
sacrifices for it. The history of the Civil War showed that 
this passion is at least as strong as in England or France. 
There is no want of an appreciation of the collective majesty 
of the nation, for this is the theme of incessant speeches, nor 
even of the past and future glories of each particular State in 
the Union. But these sentiments do not bear their appro- 
priate fruit in raising the conception of public office, of its 
worth and its dignity. The newspapers assume public men 
to be selfish and cynical. Disinterested virtue is not looked 
for, is perhaps turned into ridicule where it exists. The hard 
commercial spirit which pervades the meetings of a joint-stock 
company is the spirit in which most politicians speak, and 
are not blamed for speaking, of public business. Something, 
especially in the case of newspapers, must be allowed for the 
humorous tendencies of the American mind, which likes to 
put forward the absurd and even vulgar side of things for the 
sake of getting fun out of them. But after making such 
allowances, the fact remains that, although no people is more 
emotional, and even in a sense more poetical, in no country is 
the ideal side of public life, what one may venture to call the 
heroic element in a public career, so ignored by the mass and 
repudiated by the leaders. This affects not only the elevation 
but the independence and courage of public men ; and the 
country suffers from the want of what we call distinction in 
its conspicuous figures. 

I have discussed in a previous chapter the difficulties which 
surround the rule of public opinion where it allows little 
discretion to its agents, relying upon its own competence to 
supervise administration and secure the legislation which a 
progressive country needs. The American masses have been 



586 ILLUSTRATIONS AND REFLECTIONS part v 

obliged, both by democratic theory and by the structure of their 
government, to proceed upon the assumption of their own 
competence. They have succeeded better than could have been 
expected. No people except the choicest children of England, 
long trained by the practice of local self-government at home 
and in the colonies before their revolt, could have succeeded 
half so well. Nevertheless the masses of the United States as 
one finds them to-day show what are the limitations of the 
average man. They can deal with broad and simple issues, 
especially with issues into which a moral element enters. They 
spoke out with a clear strong voice upon slavery, when at last 
it had become plain that slavery must either spread or vanish, 
and threw themselves with enthusiasm into the struggle for 
the Union. Their instinctive dislike for foreign complications 
as well as for acquisitions of new territory has repeatedly 
checked the too active diplomacy of ambitious politicians. 
Their sense of national and commercial honour has defeated 
more than one mischievous scheme for tampering with the 
public debt. But when a question of intricacy presents itself, 
requiring either keen foresight, exact reasoning, or wide knowl- 
edge, they are at fault. Questions relating to currency and 
coinage, free trade and protection, improvements in the ma- 
chinery of constitutions or of municipal governments, the con- 
trol of corporations by the law, the method of securing purity 
of elections, these are problems which have continued to baffle 
them, just as the Free Soil question did before the war or the 
reconstruction of the revolted Southern States for a long time 
after it. 1 In those two instances a solution came about, but 
in the former it was not so much effected by the policy of the 
people or their statesmen as forced on them by events, in the 
latter it has left serious evils behind. 

Is this a defect incidental to all popular governments, or is 
there anything in the American system specially calculated to 
produce it ? 

1 1 do not deny that an American critic of the English Government might 
point to one problem by which the British Parliament has been baffled for 
two or three generations, and I will even admit that the American people 
might probably have settled it sooner than the British Parliament is thought 
likely to do. Had Britain been either a monarchy like that of Germany, or 
a democracy like that of the United States, she would probably have been 
more successful in this particular matter. 



CHAP, xcvm TRUE FAULTS OF AMERICAN DEMOCRACY 587 

A state must of course take the people as it finds them, with 
such elements of ignorance and passion as exists in masses 
of men everywhere. Nevertheless, a representative or parlia- 
mentary system provides the means of mitigating the evils to 
be feared from ignorance or haste, for it vests the actual con- 
duct of affairs in a body of specially chosen and presumably 
specially qualified men, who may themselves entrust such of 
their functions as need peculiar knowledge or skill to a smaller 
governing body or bodies selected in respect of their more 
eminent fitness. By this method the defects of democracy are 
remedied, while its strength is retained. The masses give 
their impulse to the representatives : the representatives, di- 
rected by the people to secure certain ends, bring their skill 
and experience to bear on the choice and application of the 
best means. The Americans, however, have not so constructed 
or composed their representative bodies as to secure a large 
measure of these benefits. The legislatures are disjoined from 
the administrative offices. The members of legislatures are 
not chosen for their ability or experience, but are, five-sixths 
of them, little above the average citizen. They are not much 
respected or trusted, and finding no exceptional virtue ex- 
pected from them, they behave as ordinary men do when sub- 
jected to temptations. The separation of the executive from 
the legislature is a part of the constitutional arrangements of 
the country, and has no doubt some advantages. The charac- 
ter of the legislatures is due to a mistaken view of human 
equality and an exaggerated devotion to popular sovereignty. 
It is a result of democratic theory pushed to extremes, but is 
not necessarily incident to a democratic government. The 
government of England, for instance, has now become substan- 
tially a democracy, but there is no reason why it should imi- 
tate America in either of the points just mentioned; nor does 
democratic France, apt enough to make a bold use of theory, 
seem to have pushed theory to excess in these particular direc- 
tions. I do not, however, deny that a democratic system 
makes the people self-confident, and that self-confidence may 
easily pass into a jealousy of delegated power, an undervaluing 
of skill and knowledge, a belief that any citizen is good enough 
for any political work. This is perhaps more likely to happen 
with a people who have really reached a high level'of political 



588 ILLUSTRATIONS AND REFLECTIONS part v 

competence : and so one may say that the American democracy 
is not better just because it is so good. Were it less educated, 
less shrewd, less actively interested in public affairs, less inde- 
pendent in spirit, it might be more disposed, like the masses 
in Europe, to look up to the classes which have hitherto done 
the work of governing. So perhaps the excellence of rural 
local self-government has lowered the conception of national 
government. The ordinary American farmer or shopkeeper 
or artisan bears a part in the local government of his township 
or village, or county, or small municipality. He is quite com- 
petent to discuss the questions that arise there. He knows 
his fellow-citizens, and can, if he takes the trouble, select the 
fittest of them for local office. No high standard of fitness is 
needed, for the work of local administration can be adequately 
despatched by any sensible man of business habits. Taking 
his ideas from this local government, he images Congress to 
himself as nothing more than a larger town council or board 
of county commissioners, the President and his Cabinet as a 
sort of bigger mayor and city treasurer and education superin- 
tendent; he is therefore content to choose for high Federal 
posts such persons as he would elect for these local offices. 
They are such as he is himself; and it would seem to him a 
disparagement of his own civic worth were he to deem his 
neighbours, honest, hard-working, keen-witted men, unfit for 
any places in the service of the Kepublic. 

A European critic may remark that this way of presenting 
the case ignores the evils and losses which defective govern- 
ment involves. " If," he will say, " the mass of mankind 
possess neither the knowledge nor the leisure nor the skill to 
determine the legislation and policy of a great state, will not 
the vigour of the commonwealth decline and its resources be 
squandered ? Will not a nation ruled by its average men in 
reliance on their own average wisdom be overtaken in the race 
of prosperity or overpowered in a warlike struggle by a nation 
of equal resources which is guided by its most capable minds ? " 
The answer to this criticism is that America has hitherto been 
able to afford to squander her resources, and that no other state 
threatens her. With her wealth and in her position she can 
with impunity commit errors which might be fatal to the 
nations of Western Europe. 



chai>. xcvm TRUE FAULTS OF AMERICAN DEMOCRACY 589 

The comparative indifference to political life of the educated 
and wealthy classes which is so much preached at by American 
reformers and dwelt on by European critics is partly due to 
this attitude of the multitude. These classes find no smooth 
and easy path lying- before them. Since the masses do not 
took to them for guidance, they do not come forward to give 
it. If they wish for office they must struggle for it, avoiding 
the least appearance of presuming on their social position. I 
think, however, that the abstention of the upper class is largely 
ascribable to causes, set forth in a previous chapter, that have 
little to do with democracy, and while believing that the 
United States have suffered from this abstention, do not regard 
it as an inseparable incident of their government. Accidental 
causes, such as the Spoils System, which is a comparatively 
recent and evidently curable distemper, have largely contrib- 
uted to it. 

The Spoils System reminds us of the Machine and the whole 
organization of Kings and Bosses. This ugliest feature in the 
politics of the country could not have grown up save under 
the rule of the multitude ; and some of the arrangements which 
have aided its growth, such as the number and frequency of 
elections, have been dictated by what may be called the narrow 
doctrinairism of democracy. It is not, however, necessarily 
incident to popular government, as appears by the fact that it 
nourishes in America only, where it is due to peculiar condi- 
tions which might be removed without rendering the govern- 
ment less truly popular. The city masses may improve if 
immigration declines ; offices may cease to be the reward of 
party victory ; the better citizens may throw themselves more 
actively into political work. 

The many forms in which wealth displays its power point 
to a source of evil more deep-seated than the last, and one 
which, though common to all governments, is specially dan- 
gerous in a democracy. For democracy, in relying on the 
average citizen, relies on two things, the personal interest 
which he has in good government and the public virtue which 
makes him desire it for the sake of the community. Wealth, 
skilfully used, can overcome the former motive, because the 
share of the average man in the State is a small one, less than 
the gain by which wealth may tempt him. As for virtue, the 



590 ILLUSTRATIONS AND REFLECTIONS part v 

average man's standard depends on the standard maintained 
by the public opinion of other average men. Now the sight 
of wealth frequently prevailing over the sense of duty, with 
no punishment following, lowers this standard, and leads 
opinion to accept as inevitable what it knows to be harmful, 
till only some specially audacious offender stirs the public 
wrath. Under arbitrary governments one expects a low level 
of honour in officials, because they are not responsible to 
the people, and in the people, because they have no power. 
One looks for renovation to freedom, and struggles for free- 
dom accordingly. If similar evils appear under a government 
which is already free, the remedy is less obvious and the 
prospect darker. 

Such corruption as exists in the United States will not, 
however, be ascribed to its democratic government by any 
one who remembers that corruption was rife in the English 
Parliament a century and a half ago, in English constituencies 
forty years ago, and now prevails not only under the despotism 
of Russia but also (less widely) in some other European mon- 
archies. There are diseases which attack the body politic, like 
the natural body, at certain stages of growth, but disappear 
when a nation has passed into another stage, or when sedulous 
experimentation has discovered the appropriate remedy. The 
corruption of Parliament in Sir Robert Walpole's days char- 
acterized a period of transition when power had passed to the 
House of Commons, but the control of the people over the 
House had not yet been fully established, and when, through 
a variety of moral causes, the tone of the nation was compara- 
tively low. The corruption of the electorate in English bor- 
oughs appeared when a seat had become an object of desire 
to rich men, while yet the interest of the voters in public 
affairs was so feeble that they were willing to sell their votes, 
and their number often so small that each vote fetched a high 
price. The growth of intelligence and independence among 
the people, as well as the introduction of severe penalties for 
bribery, and the extinction of small constituencies, have now 
almost extinguished electoral corruption. Similar results may 
be obtained in American constituencies by better ballot and 
election laws, such as are now being tried in nearly all the 
States. 



chap, xcvm TRUE FAULTS OF AMERICAN DEMOCRACY 591 

It is not, however, only in the way of bribery at popular 
elections that the influence of wealth is felt. It taints the 
election of Federal senators by State legislatures. It induces 
officials who ought to guard the purity of the ballot box to 
temper with returns. It procures legislation in the interests 
of commercial undertakings. It supplies the funds for main- 
taining party organizations and defraying the enormous costs 
of electoral campaigns, and demands in return sometimes a 
high administrative post, sometimes a foreign mission, some- 
times favours for a railroad, sometimes a clause in a tariff bill, 
sometimes a lucrative contract. Titles and ribands it cannot, 
as in Europe, demand, for these the country happily knows 
not ; yet these would be perhaps less harmful than the recom- 
penses it now obtains. One thing alone it can scarcely ever 
buy, — impunity for detected guilt. The two protections which 
the people retain are criminal justice, and the power, when an 
election comes, of inflicting condign chastisement not only on 
the men over whose virtue wealth has prevailed, but even over 
the party in State, or nation, which they have compromised. 
Thus the money power is held at bay, and though cities 
suffer terribly, and national interests seriously, the general 
tone of public honour does not seem to be at present declining. 
It would, I think, improve, but for the peculiar facilities 
which the last few years have revealed for the action of great 
corporations, wielding enormous pecuniary resources, but 
keeping in the background the personality of those who direct 
these resources for their own behoof. 

Of the faults summarized in this chapter, other than the 
influence of wealth, those which might seem to go deepest, 
because they have least to do with the particular constitutional 
arrangements of the country, and are most directly the off- 
spring of its temper and habits, are the prominence of inferior 
men in politics and the absence of distinguished figures. The 
people are good, but not good enough to be able to dispense 
with efficient service by capable representatives and officials, 
wise guidance by strong and enlightened leaders. They are 
neither well served nor well led. 

If it were clear that these are the fruits of liberty and 
equality, the prospects of the world would be darker than we 
have been wont to think them. They are, however, the fruits 



592 ILLUSTRATIONS AND REFLECTIONS part v 

not of liberty and equality, but of an optimism which has 
underrated the inherent difficulties of politics and inherent 
failings of human nature, of a theory which has confused 
equality of civil rights and duties with equality of capacity, 
and of a thoughtlessness which has forgotten that the prob- 
lems of the world and the dangers which beset society are 
always putting on new faces and appearing in new directions. 
The Americans started their Eepublic with a determination 
to prevent abuses of power such as they had suffered from 
the British Crown. Freedom seemed the one thing neces- 
sary; and freedom was thought to consist in cutting down 
the powers of legislatures and officials. Freedom was the 
national boast during the years that followed down till the 
Civil War ; and in the delight of proclaiming themselves supe- 
rior in this regard to the rest of the world they omitted to 
provide themselves with further requisites for good govern- 
ment, and forgot that power may be abused in other ways 
than by monarchic tyranny or legislative usurpation. They 
continued to beat the drum along the old ramparts erected in 
1776 and 1789 against George III., or those who might try to 
imitate him, when the enemy had moved quite away from 
that side of the position, and was beginning to threaten their 
rear. No maxim was more popular among them than that 
which declares eternal vigilance to be the price of freedom. 
Unfortunately their vigilance took account only of the old 
dangers, and did not note the development of new ones, as 
if the captain of a man-of-war were to think only of his guns 
and armour-plating, and neglect to protect himself against tor- 
pedoes. Thus abuses were suffered to grow up, which seemed 
trivial in the midst of so general a prosperity ; and good citi- 
zens who were occupied in other and more engrossing ways, 
allowed politics to fall into the hands of mean men. The 
efforts which these citizens are now making to recover the 
control of public business would have encountered fewer ob- 
stacles had they been made sooner. But the obstacles will 
be overcome. No one, I think, who has studied either the 
history of the American people, or their present mind and 
habits, will conclude that there is among them any jealousy of 
merit, any positive aversion to culture or knowledge. Neither 
the political arrangements nor the social and economical con- 



chap, xcvm TRUE FAULTS OF AMERICAN DEMOCRACY 503 

ditions of the country tend at this moment to draw its best 
intellects and loftiest characters into public life. But it is not 
the democratic temper of the people that stands in the way. 

The commonest of the old charges against democracy was 
that it passed into ochlocracy. I have sought to show that 
this has not happened, and is not likely to happen in America. 
The features of mob-rule do not appear in her system, whose 
most characteristic faults are the existence of a professional 
class using government as a means of private gain and the 
menacing power of wealth. Plutocracy, which the ancients 
contrasted with democracy, has shown in America an inau- 
spicious affinity for certain professedly democratic institutions. 

Perhaps no form of government needs great leaders so much 
as democracy. The fatalistic habit of mind perceptible among 
the Americans needs to be corrected by the spectacle of courage 
and independence taking their own path, and not looking to see 
whither the mass are moving. Those whose material prosper- 
ity tends to lap them in self-complacency and dull the edge of 
aspiration, need to be thrilled by the emotions which great 
men can excite, stimulated by the ideals they present, stirred 
to a loftier sense of what national life may attain. In some 
countries men of brilliant gifts may be dangerous to freedom; 
but the ambition of American statesmen has been schooled to 
flow in constitutional channels, and the Republic is strong- 
enough to stand any strain to which the rise of heroes may 
expose her. 

VOL. II 2 Q 



CHAPTER XCIX 

THE STRENGTH OF AMERICAN DEMOCRACY 

Those merits of American government which belong to its 
Federal Constitution have already been discussed : * we have 
now to consider such as flow from the rule of public opinion, 
from the temper, habits, and ideas of the people. 

I. The first is that of Stability. — As one test of a human 
body's soundness is its capacity for reaching a great age, so it 
is high praise for a political system that it has stood no more 
changed than any institution must change in a changing world, 
and that it now gives every promise of durability. The people 
are profoundly attached to the form which their national life has 
taken. The Federal Constitution is, to their eyes, an almost 
sacred thing, an Ark of the Covenant, whereon no man may 
lay rash hands. All over Europe one hears schemes of radical 
change freely discussed. There is a strong monarchical party 
iu France, a republican party in Italy and Spain, a social 
democratic party everywhere, not to speak of sporadic anarch- 
ist groups. Even in England, it is impossible to feel confident 
that any one of the existing institutions of the country will be 
standing fifty years hence. But in the United States the dis- 
cussion of political problems busies itself with details, so far 
as the native Americans are concerned, and assumes that the 
main lines must remain as they are for ever. This conserva- 
tive spirit, jealously watchful even in small matters, sometimes 
prevents reforms, but it assures to the people an easy mind, and 
a trust in their future which they feel to be not only a present 
satisfaction but a reservoir of strength. 

The best proof of the Avell-braced solidity of the system is that 
it survived the Civil War, changed only in a few points which 
have not greatly affected the balance of National and State 

i See Chapters XXVII.-XXX. in Vol. I. 
594 



chap, xcix STRENGTH OF AMERICAN DEMOCRACY 595 

powers. Another must have struck every European traveller 
who questions American publicists about the institutions of 
their country. When I first travelled in the United States, I 
used to ask thoughtful men, superior to the prejudices of cus- 
tom, whether they did not think the States' system defective 
in such and such points, whether the legislative authority of 
Congress might not profitably be extended, whether the suf- 
frage ought not to be restricted as regards negroes or immi- 
grants, and so forth. Whether assenting or dissenting, the 
persons questioned invariably treated such matters as purely 
speculative, saying that the present arrangements were too 
deeply rooted for their alteration to come within the horizon 
of practical politics. So when a serious trouble arises, such as 
might in Europe threaten revolution, the people face it quietly, 
and assume that a tolerable solution will be found. At the 
disputed election of 1876, when each of the two great parties, 
heated with conflict, claimed that its candidate had been chosen 
President, and the Constitution supplied no way out of the 
difficulty, public tranquillity was scarcely disturbed, and the 
public funds fell but little. A method was invented of settling 
the question which both sides acquiesced in, and although the 
decision was a boundless disappointment to the party which 
had cast the majority of the popular vote, that party quietly 
submitted to lose those spoils of office whereon its eyes had 
been feasting. 

II. Eeeling the law to be their own work, the people are 
disposed to obey the law. — In a preceding chapter I have 
examined occasional instances of the disregard of the law, and 
the supersession of its tardy methods by the action of the 
crowd. Such instances do not deprive the Americans of the 
credit they claim to be a law-abiding community. It is the 
best result that can be ascribed to the direct participation of 
the people in their government that they have the love of the 
maker for his work, that every citizen looks upon a statute as 
a regulation made by himself for his own guidance no less than 
for that of others, every official as a person he has himself 
chosen, and whom it is therefore his interest, with no dispar- 
agement to his personal independence, to obey. Plato thought 
that those who felt their own sovereignty would be impatient 
of all control : nor is it to be denied that the principle of 



596 ILLUSTRATIONS AND REFLECTIONS part v 

equality may result in lowering the status and dignity of a 
magistrate. But as regards law and order the gain much ex- 
ceeds the loss, for every one feels that there is no appeal from 
the law, behind which there stands the force of the nation. 
Such a temper can exist and bear these fruits only w T here 
minorities, however large, have learned to submit patiently to 
majorities, however small. But that is the one lesson which 
the American government through every grade and in every 
department daily teaches, and which it has woven into the 
texture of every citizen's mind. The habit of living under a 
rigid constitution superior to ordinary statutes — indeed two 
rigid constitutions, since the State Constitution is a funda- 
mental law within its own sphere no less than is the Federal 
— intensifies this legality of view, since it may turn all sorts 
of questions w T hich have not been determined by a direct vote 
of the people into questions of legal construction. It even 
accustoms people to submit to see their direct vote given in the 
enactment of a State Constitution nullified by the decision of a 
court holding that the Federal Constitution has been contra- 
vened. Every page of American history illustrates the whole- 
some results. The events of the last few years present an 
instance of the constraint which the people put on themselves 
in order to respect every form of law. The Mormons, a com- 
munity not exceeding 140,000 persons, persistently defied all 
the efforts of Congress to root out polygamy, a practice emi- 
nently repulsive to American notions. If they inhabited a 
State, Congress could not have interfered at all, but as Utah is 
only a Territory, Congress has not only a power of legislating 
for it which overrides Territorial ordinances passed by the 
local legislature, but the right to apply military force inde- 
pendent of local authorities. Thus the Mormons were really 
at the mercy of the Federal government, had it chosen to em- 
ploy violent methods. But by entrenching themselves behind 
the letter of the Constitution, they continued for many years 
to maintain their " peculiar institution " by evading the statutes 
passed against it and challenging a proof which under the com- 
mon law rules of evidence it was usually found impossible to 
give. Declaimers hounded on Congress to take arbitrary 
means for the suppression of the practice, but Congress and 
the executive submitted to be outwitted rather than depart 



ciiu-. sou STRENGTH 01 AMERICAN DEMOCRACY ( J7 

from the accustomed principles of legislation, and succeeded 
at last only by a statute whose searching but strictly constitu- 
tional provisions the recalcitrants failed to evade. The same 
spirit of legality shows itself in misgoverned cities. Even 
where it is notorious that officials have been chosen by the 
grossest fraud and that they are robbing the city, the body of 
the people, however indignant, recognize the authority, and go 
on paying the taxes which a Ring levies, because strict legal 
proof of the frauds and robberies is not forthcoming. Wrong- 
doing supplies a held for the display of virtue. 

III. There is a broad simplicity about the political ideas of 
the people, and a courageous consistency in carrying them out 
in practice. When they have accepted a principle, they do not 
shrink from applying it " right along," however disagreeable 
in particular cases some of the results may be. I am far from 
meaning that they are logical in the French sense of the word. 
They have little taste either for assuming abstract propositions 
or for syllogistically deducing practical conclusions therefrom. 
But when they have adopted a general maxim of policy or rule 
of action they show more faith in it than the English for in- 
stance would do, they adhere to it where the English would 
make exceptions, they prefer certainty and uniformity to the 
advantages which might occasionally be gained by deviation. 1 
If this tendency is partly the result of obedience to a rigid 
constitution, it is no less due to the democratic dislike of ex- 
ceptions and complexities, which the multitude finds not only 
difficult of comprehension but disquieting to the individual 
who may not know how they will affect him. Take for instance 
the boundless freedom of the press. There are abuses obviously 
incident to such freedom, and these abuses have not failed to 
appear. But the Americans deliberately hold that in view of 
the benefits which such freedom on the whole promises, abuses 
must be borne with and left to the sentiment of the people 

1 What has been said (Chapters XLIV. and XLV.) of special and local legis- 
lation by the State legislatures may seem an exception to this rule. Such 
legislation, however, is usally procured in the dark and by questionable 
means. 

Looking both to the National and to the State governments, it may be said 
that, with a few exceptions, no people lias shown a greater regard for public 
obligations, and thai no people has more prudently and honourably refrained 
from legislation bearing hardly upon the rich, or indeed upon any class what- 
ever. 



598 ILLUSTRATIONS AND REFLECTIONS part v 

and the private law of libel to deal with. When the Ku Klux 
outrages disgraced several of the Southern States after the 
military occupation of those States had ceased, there was 
much to be said for sending back the troops to protect the 
negroes and Northern immigrants. But the general judgment 
that things ought to be allowed to take their natural course 
prevailed; and the result justified this policy, for the out- 
rages after a while died out, when ordinary self-government 
had been restored. When recently a gigantic organization of 
unions of working men, purporting to unite the whole of 
American labour, attempted to enforce its sentences against 
particular firms or corporations by a boycott in which all 
labourers were urged to join, there was displeasure, but no 
panic, no call for violent remedies. The prevailing faith in 
liberty and in the good sense of the mass was unshaken ; and 
the result soon justified this tranquil faith. Such a tendency 
is not an unmixed blessing, for it sometimes allows evils to go 
too long unchecked. But in giving equability to the system 
of government it gives steadiness and strength. It teaches 
the people patience, accustoming them to expect relief only by 
constitutional means. It confirms their faith in their institu- 
tions, as friends value one another more when their friendship 
has stood the test of a journey full of hardships. 

IV. American government, relying very little on officials, 
has the merit of arming them with little power of arbitral 
interference. The reader who has followed the description 
of Federal authorities, State authorities, county and city 
or township authorities, may think there is a great deal of 
administration ; but the description has been minute just 
because the powers of each authority are so carefully and 
closely restricted. It is natural to fancy that a government 
of the people and by the people will be led to undertake many 
and various functions for the people, and in the confidence of 
its strength will constitute itself a general philanthropic 
agency for their social and economic benefit. There has doubt- 
less been of late years a current running in this direction. 1 
But the paternalism of America differs from that of Europe 
in acting not so much through officials as through the 
law. That is to say, when it prescribes to the citizen a 
i See Chapter XCV. 



chap, xcix STRENGTH OF AMERICAN DEMOCRACY 699 

particular course of action it relies upon the ordinary legal 
sanctions, instead of investing the administrative officers 
with inquisitorial duties or powers that might prove oppres- 
sive, and when it devolves active functions upon officials, they 
are functions serving to aid the individual and the community 
rather than to interfere with or supersede the action of pri- 
vate enterprise. Having dwelt on the evils which may flow 
from the undue application of the doctrine of direct popular 
sovereignty, I must remind the European reader that it is 
only fair to place to the credit of that doctrine and of the 
arrangements it has dictated, the intelligence which the aver- 
age native American shows in his political judgments, the 
strong sense he entertains of the duty of giving a vote, the 
spirit of alertness and enterprise, which has made him self- 
helpful above all other men. 

V. There are no struggles between privileged and unprivi- 
leged orders, not even that perpetual strife of rich and poor 
which is the oldest disease of civilized states. One must not 
pronounce broadly that there are no classes, for in parts of 
the country social distinctions have begun to grow up. But 
for political purposes classes scarcely exist. No one of the 
questions which now agitate the nation is a question between 
rich and poor. Instead of suspicion, jealousy, and arrogance 
embittering the relations of classes, good feeling and kindli- 
ness reign. Everything that government, as the Americans 
have hitherto understood the term, can give them, the poorer 
class have already, political power, equal civil rights, a career 
open to all citizens alike, not to speak of that gratuitous 
higher as well as elementary education which on their own 
economic principles the United States might have abstained 
from giving, but which political reasons have led them to 
provide with so unstinting a hand. Hence the poorer have 
had nothing to fight for, no grounds for disliking the well- 
to-do, no complaints to make against them. The agitation of 
the last few years has been directed, not against the richer 
sort generally, but against incorporated companies and a few 
wealthy capitalists, who are deemed to have abused the powers 
which the privilege of incorporation conferred upon them, or 
employed their wealth to procure legislation unfair to the 
public. Where violent language has been used like that with 



600 ILLUSTRATIONS AND REFLECTIONS part v 

which. France and Germany are familiar, it has been used, not 
by native Americans, but by new-comers, who bring their Old 
World passions with them. Property is safe, because those 
who hold it are far more numerous than those who do not : 
the usual motives for revolution vanish ; universal suffrage, 
even when vested in ignorant new-comers, can do compara- 
tively little harm, because the masses have obtained every- 
thing which they could hope to attain except by a general 
pillage. And the native Americans, though the same cannot 
be said of some of the recent immigrants, are shrewd enough 
to see that the poor would suffer from such pillage no less 
than the rich. 

[Revising this chapter in 1894, I leave these words, which 
were written in 1888, to stand as they were. They then 
expressed, as I believe, the view which the most judicious 
Americans themselves took of their country. Looking at the 
labour troubles of the last three years, and especially at the 
great railroad strike riots of July, 1894, that view may seem 
too roseate. It is, however, to be remembered that those riots 
were mainly the work of recent immigrants, whom American 
institutions have not had time to educate, though the folly of 
abstract theory has confided votes to them ; and it must also 
be noted that the opinion of the native Americans, with little 
distinction of class, approved the boldness with which the 
Federal executive went to the extreme limit of its constitu- 
tional powers in repressing them. In any case it seems better 
to await the teachings of the next few years rather than let 
matured conclusions be suddenly modified by passing events.] 

A European censor may make two reflections on the state- 
ment of this part of the case. He will observe that, after all, 
it is no more than saying that when you have got to the bot- 
tom you can fall no farther. And he will ask whether, if 
property is safe and contentment reigns, these advantages are 
not due to the economical conditions of a new and resourceful 
country, with an abundance of unoccupied land and mineral 
wealth, rather than to the democratic structure of the govern- 
ment. The answer to the first objection is, that the descent 
towards equality and democracy has involved no injury to the 
richer or better educated classes : to the second, that although 
much must doubtless be ascribed to the bounty of nature, her 



chap, xcix STRENGTH OF AMERICAN DEMOCRACY 601 

favours have been so used by the people as to bring about a 
prosperity, a genera] diffusion of property, an abundance of 
freedom, of equality, and of good feeling which furnish the 
best security against the recurrence in America of chronic Old 
World evils, even when her economic state shall have become 
less auspicious than it now is. Wealthy and powerful such a 

* country must have been under any form of government, but 
the speed with which she has advanced, and the employment 
of the sources of wealth to diffuse comfort among millions of 
families, may be placed to the credit of stimulative freedom. 
Wholesome habits have been established among the people 
whose value will be found when the times of pressure ap- 
proach, and though the troubles that have arisen between 
labour and capital may not soon pass away, the sense of 
human equality, the absence of offensive privileges distin- 
guishing class from class, will make those troubles less severe 

f than in Europe, where they are complicated by the recollec- 
tion of old wrongs, by arrogance on the one side and envy on 
the other. 

Some American panegyrists of democracy have weakened 
their own case by claiming for a form of government all the 
triumphs which modern science has wrought in a land of un- 
equalled natural resources. An active European race would 
probably have made America rich and prosperous under any 
government. But the volume and the character of the pros- 
perity attained may be in large measure ascribed to the insti- 
tutions of the country. As Mr. Charles W. Eliot observes in 
a singularly thoughtful address : — 

; - Sensible and righteous government ought ultimately to make a nation 
rich ; and although this proposition cannot be directly reversed, yet dif- 
fused well-being, comfort, and material prosperity establish a fair pre- 
sumption in favour of the government and the prevailing social conditions 
under which these blessings have been secured. . . . 

"The successful establishment and support of religious institutions — 
churches, seminaries, and religious charities — upon a purely voluntary 
system, is an unprecedented achievement of the American democracy. In 
only three generations American democratic society has effected the com- 
plete separation of Church and State, a reform which no other people has 
ever attempted. Yet religious institutions are not stinted in the United 
States ; on the contrary, they abound and thrive, and all alike are pro- 
tected and encouraged, but not supported, by the State. . . . The main- 



602 ILLUSTRATIONS AND REFLECTIONS part v 

tenance of churches, seminaries, and charities by voluntary contributions 
and by the administrative labours of volunteers, implies an enormous and 
incessant expenditure of mental and moral force. It is a force which 
must ever be renewed from generation to generation ; for it is a personal 
force, constantly expiring, and as constantly to be replaced. Into the 
maintenance of the voluntary system in religion has gone a good part of 
the moral energy which three generations have been able to spare from 
the work of getting a living ; but it is worth the sacrifice, and will be 
accounted in history one of the most remarkable feats of American public 
spirit and faith in freedom. 

" A similar exhibition of diffused mental and moral energy has accom- 
panied the establishment and the development of a system of higher 
instruction in the United States, with no inheritance of monastic endow- 
ments, and no gifts from royal or ecclesiastical personages disposing of 
great resources derived from the State, and with but scanty help from 
the public purse. Whoever is familiar with the colleges and universities 
of the United States knows that the creation of these democratic institu- 
tions has cost the life-work of thousands of devoted men. At the sacrifice 
of other aspirations, and under heavy discouragements and disappoint- 
ments, but with faith and hope, these teachers and trustees have built up 
institutions, which, however imperfect, have cherished scientific enthusi- 
asm, fostered piety, literature, and art, maintained the standards of 
honour and public duty, and steadily kept in view the ethical ideals 
which democracy cherishes. It has been a popular work, to which large 
numbers of people in successive generations have contributed of their sub- 
stance or of their labour. The endowment of institutions of education, 
including libraries and museums, by private persons in the United States 
is a phenomenon without precedent or parallel, and is a legitimate effect 
of democratic institutions. Under a tyranny — were it that of a Marcus 
Aurelius — or an oligarchy — were it as enlightened as that which now 
rules Germany — such a phenomenon would be simply impossible. Like 
the voluntary system in religion, the voluntary system in the higher edu- 
cation buttresses democracy ; each demands from the community a large 
outlay of intellectual activity and moral vigour." 



VI. The government of the Bepublic, limited and languid 
in ordinary times, is capable of developing immense vigour. 
It can pull itself together at moments of danger, can put forth 
unexpected efforts, can venture on stretches of authority trans- 
cending not only ordinary practice but even ordinary law. 
This is the result of the unity of the nation. A divided people 
is a weak people, even if it obeys a monarch ; a united people 
is doubly strong when it is democratic, for then the force of 
each individual will swells the collective force of the govern- 
ment, encourages it, relieves it from internal embarrassments. 



chap, xcix STRENGTH OF AMERICAN DEMOCRACY 603 

Now the American people is united at moments of national con- 
cern from two causes. One is that absence of class divisions 
and jealousies which lias been already described. The people 
are homogeneous : a feeling which stirs them stirs alike rich 
and poor, farmers ami traders, Eastern men and Western men 
— one may now add, Southern men also. Their patriotism has 
ceased to be defiant, and is conceived as the duty of promoting 
the greatness and happiness of their country, a greatness which, 
as it does not look to war or aggression, does not redound spe- 
cially, as it might in Europe, to the glory or benefit of the ruling 
caste or the military profession, but to that of all the citizens. 
The other source of unit}^ is the tendency in democracies for 
the sentiment of the majority to tell upon the sentiment of 
a minority. That faith in the popular voice whereof I have 
already spoken strengthens every feeling which has once be- 
come strong, and makes it rush like a wave over the country, 
sweeping everything before it. I do not mean that the people 
become wild with excitement, for beneath their noisy demon- 
strations they retain their composure and shrewd view of facts. 
I mean only that the pervading sympathy stirs them to un- 
wonted efforts. The steam is superheated, but the effect is 
seen only in the greater expansive force which it exerts. 
Hence a spirited executive can in critical times go forward 
with a courage and confidence possible only to those who know 
that they have a whole nation behind them. The people fall 
into rank at once. With that surprising gift for organization 
which they possess, they concentrate themselves on the imme- 
diate object; they dispense with the ordinary constitutional 
restrictions ; they make personal sacrifices which remind one 
of the self-devotion of Roman citizens in the earlier days of 
Rome. 

Speaking thus, I am thinking chiefly of the spirit evolved by 
the Civil War in both the North and the South. But the sort 
of strength which a democratic government derives from its 
direct dependence on the people is seen in many smaller in- 
stances. In 1863, when on the making of a draft of men for 
the war, the Irish mob rose in New York City, excited by the 
advance of General Robert E. Lee into Pennsylvania, the State 
governor called out the troops, and by them restored order with 
a stern vigour which would have done credit to Radetzsky or 



604 ILLUSTRATIONS AND REFLECTIONS part v 

Cavaignac. More than a thousand rioters were shot down, and 
public opinion entirely approved the slaughter. Years after 
the war, when the Orangemen of New York purposed to have a 
12th of July procession through the streets, the Irish Catholics 
threatened to prevent it. The feeling of the native Americans 
was aroused at once; young men of wealth came back from 
their mountain and seaside resorts to fill the militia regiments 
which were called out to guard the procession, and the display 
of force was so overwhelming that no disturbance followed. 
These Americans had no sympathy with the childish and mis- 
chievous partisanship which leads the Orangemen to perpetuate 
Old World feuds on New World soil. But processions were 
legal, and they were resolved that the law should be respected, 
and the spirit of disorder repressed. They would have been 
equally ready to protect a Eoman Catholic procession. 

Given an adequate occasion, executive authority in America 
can better venture to take strong measures, and feels more sure 
of support from the body of the people than is the case in 
England. When there is a failure to enforce the law, the fault 
lies at the door, not of the people, but of timid or time-serving 
officials who fear to offend some interested section of the voters. 

VII. Democracy has not only taught the Americans how to 
use liberty without abusing it, and how to secure equality : it 
has also taught them fraternity. That word has gone out of 
fashion in the Old World, and no wonder, considering what 
was done in its name in 1793, considering also that it still fig- 
ures in the programme of assassins. Nevertheless there is in 
the United States a sort of kindliness, a sense of human fellow- 
ship, a recognition of the duty of mutual help owed by man to 
man, stronger than anywhere in the Old World, and certainly 
stronger than in the upper or middle classes of England, France, 
or Germany. The natural impulse of every citizen in America 
is to respect every other citizen, and to feel that citizenship 
constitutes a certain ground of respect. The idea of each man's 
equal rights is so fully realized that the rich or powerful man 
feels it no indignity to take his turn among the crowd, and does 
not expect any deference from the poorest. An individual 
employer of labour (for one cannot say the same of corpora- 
tions) has, I think, a keener sense of his duty to those whom 
he employs than employers have in continental Europe. He 



chap, xcix STRENGTH OF AMERICAN DEMOCRACY C05 

has certainly a greater sense of responsibility for the use of his 
wealth. The number of gifts for benevolent and other public 
purposes, the number of educational, artistic, literary, and 
scientific foundations, is larger than even in Britain, the 
wealthiest and most liberal of European countries. Wealth 
is generally felt to be a trust, and exclusiveness condemned 
not merely as indicative of selfishness, but as a sort of offence 
against the public. No one, for instance, thinks of shutting 
up his pleasure-grounds ; he seldom even builds a wall round 
them, but puts up low railings or a palisade, so that the sight 
of his trees and shrubs is enjoyed by passers-by. That any 
one should be permitted either by opiniou or by law to seal up 
many square miles of beautiful mountain country against tour- 
ists or artists is to the ordinary American almost incredible. 
Such things are to him the marks of a land still groaning 
under feudal tyranny. 

It may seem strange to those who know how difficult Euro- 
pean states have generally found it to conduct negotiations 
with the government of the United States, and who are accus- 
tomed to read in European newspapers the defiant utterances 
which American politicians address from Congress to the effete 
monarchies of the Old World, to be told that this spirit of 
fraternity has its influence on international relations also. 
Nevertheless if we look not at the irresponsible orators, who 
play to the lower feelings of a section of the people, but at 
the general sentiment of the w T hole people, we shall recognize 
that democracy makes both for peace and for justice as 
between nations. Despite the admiration for military exploits 
which the Americans have sometimes shown, no country is at 
bottom more pervaded by a hatred of war, and a sense that 
national honour stands rooted in national fair dealing. The 
nation is often misrepresented by its statesmen, but although 
it allows them to say irritating things and advance unreason- 
able claims, it has not for more than forty years permitted 
them to abuse its enormous strength, as most European nations 
possessed of similar strength have in time past abused theirs. 

The characteristics of the nation which I have passed in 
review are not due solely to democratic government, but they 
have been strengthened by it, and they contribute to its 
solidity and to the smoothness of its working. As one some- 



006 ILLUSTRATIONS AND REFLECTIONS part v 

times sees an individual man who fails in life because the 
different parts of his nature seem unfitted to each other, so 
that his action, swayed by contending influences, results in 
nothing definite or effective, so one sees nations whose political 
institutions are either in advance of or lag behind their social 
conditions, so that the unity of the body politic suffers, and 
the harmony of its movements is disturbed. America is not 
such a nation. There have, no doubt, been two diverse influ- 
ences at work on the minds of men. One is the conservative 
English spirit, brought from home, expressed, and (if one may 
say so) entrenched in those fastnesses of the Federal Consti- 
tution, and (to a less degree) of the State constitutions which 
reveal their English origin. The other is the devotion to 
democratic equality and popular sovereignty, due partly to 
Puritanism, partly to abstract theory, partly to the circum- 
stances of the Revolutionary struggle. But since neither of 
these two streams of tendency has been able to overcome the 
other, they have at last become so blent as to form a definite 
type of political habits, and a self-consistent body of political 
ideas. Thus it may now be said that the country is made all 
of a piece. Its institutions have become adapted to its eco- 
nomic and social conditions and are the due expression of its 
character. The new wine has been poured into new bottles : 
or to adopt a metaphor more appropriate to the country, the 
vehicle has been built with a lightness, strength, and elasticity 
which fit it for the roads it has to traverse. 



CHAPTER C 

HOW FAR AMERICAN EXPERIENCE IS AVAILABLE FOR EUROPE 

There are two substantial services which the study of history 
may render to politics. The one is to correct the use, which is 
generally the abuse, of the deductive or a priori method of 
reasoning in politics. The other is to save the politician from 
being misled by superficial historical analogies. He who re- 
pudiates the a priori method is apt to fancy himself a practical 
man, when* running to the other extreme, he argues directly 
from the phenomena of one age or country to those of another, 
and finding somewhat similar causes or conditions bids us to 
expect similar results. His error is as grave as that of the 
man who relies on abstract reasonings ; for he neglects that 
critical examination of the premises from which every process 
of reasoning ought to start. The better trained any historical 
inquirer is, so much the more cautious will he be in the employ- 
ment of what are called historical arguments in politics. He 
knows how necessary it is in attempting to draw any conclusion 
of practical worth for one country from the political experience 
of another, to allow for the points in which the countries differ, 
because among these points there are usually some which affect 
the soundness of the inference, making it doubtful whether that 
which holds true of the one will hold true of the other. The 
value of history for students of politics or practical statesmen 
lies rather in its power of quickening their insight, in its giving 
them a larger knowledge of the phenomena of man's nature as 
a political being and of the tendencies that move groups and 
communities of men, and thus teaching them how to observe 
the facts that come under their own eyes, and what to expect 
from the men with whom they have to deal. A thinker duly 
exercised in historical research will carry his stores of the 
world's political experience about with him, not as a book of pre- 

607 



608 ILLUSTRATIONS AND REFLECTIONS part v 

scriptions or recipes from which he can select one to apply to 
a given case, bnt rather as a physician carries a treatise on 
pathology which instructs him in the general principles to be 
followed in observing the symptoms and investigating the 
causes of the maladies that come before him. So, although the 
character of democratic government in the United States is full 
of instruction for Europeans, it supplies few conclusions directly 
bearing on the present politics of any European country, because 
both the strong and the weak points of the American people are 
not exactly repeated anywhere in the Old World, not even in 
such countries as Erance, Switzerland, and England. The pict- 
ure given of the phenomena of America in preceding chapters 
has probably already suggested to the reader the inferences to be 
drawn from it, and such application as they may have to Europe. 
I shall therefore be here content with recapitulating in the most 
concise way the points in which the institutions of the United 
States and the methods employed in working them seem, if 
not quite directly, yet most nearly, to touch and throw light 
upon European problems. America has in some respects antici- 
pated European nations. She is walking before them along a 
path which they may probably follow. She carries behind her, 
to adopt a famous simile of Dante's, a lamp whose light helps 
those who come after her more than it always does herself, 
because some of the dangers she has passed through may not 
recur at any other point in her path ; whereas they, following 
in her footsteps, may stumble in the same stony places, or be 
entangled in the quagmires into which she slipped. 

I. Manhood Suffrage. — This has been now adopted by so 
many peoples of Europe that they have the less occasion to 
study its transatlantic aspects. The wisest Americans, while 
appreciating the strength which it gives to their government, 
and conceiving that they could hardly have stopped short of it, 
hold that their recent experience does not invite imitation by 
European nations, unless at least Europeans adopt safeguards 
resembling those they have applied. With those safeguards, 
the abolition of property qualifications has, so far as the 
native population is concerned, proved successful ; but in the 
hands of the negroes at the South, or the newly enfranchised 
immigrants of the larger cities, a vote is a weapon of mis- 
chief. 



am-, o AMERICAN BXPERIENCB FOR EUBOPE 000 

II. Ttw Civil Service. — To keep minor administrative offices 

out of politics, to make them tenable for life and obtainable by 
merit instead of by private patronage, is at present the chief 
aim of American reformers. They are laboriously striving to 
bring their civil service up to the German or British level. If 
there is any Lesson they would seek to impress on Europeans, 
it is the danger of allowing politics to get into the hands of 
men who seek to make a living by them, and of suffering 
public offices to become the reward of party work. Rather, 
they would say, interdict office-holders from participation in 
politics ; appoint them by competition, however absurd com- 
petition may sometimes appear, choose them by lot, like the 
Athenians and Florentines ; only do not let offices be tenable 
at the pleasure of party chiefs and lie in the uncontrolled 
patronage of persons who can use them to strengthen their 
own political position. 1 

III. The Judiciary. — The same observation applies to judi- 
cial posts, and with no less force. The American State Bench 
suffers both from the too prevalent system of popular election 
and from the scanty remuneration allotted. To procure men 
of character, learning, and intellectual power, and to keep them 
independent, ample remuneration must be paid, a life tenure 
secured, and the appointments placed in responsible hands. 
There is nothing in the English frame of government which 
thoughtful Americans so much admire as the maintenance of 
a high level of integrity and capacity in the judges ; and they 
often express a hope that nothing will be clone to lower the 
position of officials on whose excellence the well-being and 
commercial credit of a country largely depend. 2 

IV. Character and Working of Legislatures? — Although the 
rule of representative chambers has been deemed the most 
characteristic feature of well-ordered free governments, as con- 
trasted with those impetuous democracies of antiquity which 
legislated by primary assemblies, it must be confessed that the 
legislative bodies of the United States have done something to 
discredit representative government. Whether this result is 
mainly due, as some think, to the disconnection of the Execu- 
tive from the legislature, or whether it must be traced to 

1 See Chapter LXV. 2 gee Chapters XLII and CII. « See Chapters 

XIV, XIX, XLI, XLIV, XLV. 

VOL. II 2 R 



610 ILLUSTRATIONS AND REFLECTIONS 



deeper sources of weakness, it is not without instruction for 
those who would in Europe vest in legislatures, and, perhaps, 
even in one-chambered legislatures, still wider powers of inter- 
ference with administration than they now possess. 

V. Second Chambers. 1 — The Americans consider the divi- 
sion of every political legislature into two co-ordinate bodies 
to be absolutely necessary ; and their opinion, in this respect, 
is the more valuable because several States tried for a time to 
work with one chamber, and because they are fully sensible 
of the inconveniences which the frequent collision of two 
chambers involves. Their view is, doubtless, tinged by the 
low opinion which they hold of the quality of their legislators. 
Distrusting these, they desire to place every possible check 
upon their action. In cities it does not appear that either the 
two-chambered or the one-chambered system shows any advan- 
tage over the other ; but it is now beginning to be seen that a 
city council ought not to be conceived of as a legislature, and 
that city government has altogether been planned and conducted 
too much on political, and too little on commercial, lines. 

VI. Length of Legislative Terms. 2 — The gain and the loss in 
having legislatures elected for short terms are sufficiently obvi- 
ous. To a European, the experience of Congress seems to indi- 
cate that the shortness of its term is rather to be avoided than 
imitated. It is not needed in order to secure the obedience of 
Congress to the popular will : it increases the cost of politics 
by making elections more frequent, and it keeps a considerable 
proportion of the legislators employed in learning a business 
from which they are dismissed as soon as they have learnt it. 

VII. Indirect Elections? — American experience does not com- 
mend this device, which, until the establishment of the present 
mode of choosing the Erench Senate, was chiefly known from its 
employment in the Republic of Venice. The choice of the 
President by electors, chosen for the purpose, has wholly failed 
to attain the object its authors desired. The election of sena- 
tors by State legislatures gives no better, and possibly worse, 
men to the Senate, than direct popular election would give. 

VIII. A Rigid Constitution} — Although several European 
states have now placed themselves under constitutions not 

i See Chapters XVIII, XL, and L. * See Chapters XIX and XL. 3 See 
Chapters V, X, and XII. 4 See Chapters XXIII, XXXI-XXXV, and XXXVII. 



ruw.c AMERICAN EXPERIENCE FOR EUROPE 611 

alterable by their legislatures in the same way as ordinary 
statutes are altered, America furnishes in her State govern- 
ments, as well as in her Federal government, by far the most 
instructive examples of the working of a system under which 
certain laws are made fundamental, and surrounded not only 
with a sort of eonsecration, but with provisions which make 
change comparatively difficult. There is nothing in their 
system with whose results, despite some obvious drawbacks, 
the multitude, scarcely less than the wise, are so well satisfied; 
nothing which they more frequently recommend to the con- 
sideration of those Europeans who are alarmed at the progress 
which democracy makes in the Old World. 

IX. Direct Legislation by the People. 1 — In this respect also 
the example of the several States — for the Federal govern- 
ment is not in point — deserves to be well studied by English 
and French statesmen. I greatly doubt if the plan, whose 
merits seem to me in America to outweigh its defects, would 
work as well in a large country as it does in communities of 
the size of the American States. Even in them it is useful 
less by its own merits than by comparison with the vices of 
the legislatures. The people are as likely to be right in 
judgment as are those bodies ; and they are more honest and 
more independent. The institution is a highly democratic 
one ; and in countries which have capable and trustworthy 
legislatures might work ill by lowering their dignity and 
importance. It would be an appeal from comparative knowl- 
edge to comparative ignorance. This consideration does 
not apply to its use in local affairs, where it stimulates the 
activity of the citizen without superseding the administrative 
body. 

X. Local Self-government. 2 — Nothing has more contributed 
to give strength and flexibility to the government of the 
United States, or to train the masses of the people to work 
their democratic institutions, than the existence everywhere 
in the Northern States of self-governing administrative units, 
such as townships, small enough to enlist the personal interest 
and be subject to the personal watchfulness and control of the 
ordinary citizen. Abuses have indeed sprung up in the cities, 
and in the case of the largest among them have become for- 

i See Chapter XXXIX. 2 See Chapters XLVI1I-LII. 



612 ILLUSTRATIONS AND REFLECTIONS part v 

niidable, partly because the principle of local control has not 
been sufficiently adhered to. Nevertheless the system of local 
government as a whole has been not merely beneficial, but 
indispensable, and well deserves the study of those who in 
Europe are alive to the evils of centralization, and perceive 
that those evils will not necessarily diminish with a further 
democratization of such countries as Britain, Germany, and 
Italy. I do not say that in any of the great European states 
the mass of the rural population is equally competent with 
the American to work such a system: still it presents a model 
towards which European institutions ought to tend. Very 
different is the lesson which the American cities teach. It is 
a lesson of what to avoid. Nowhere have the conjoint influ- 
ences of false theory, party cohesion and the apathy of good 
citizens, together with a recklessly granted suffrage rendered 
municipal government so wasteful, inefficient, and impure. 

XI. The Absence of a Church Establishment. — As the dis- 
cussion of ecclesiastical matters belongs to a later part of this 
book, 1 I must be content with observing that in America 
everybody, to whatever religious communion he belongs, pro- 
fesses satisfaction with the complete separation of Church and 
State. This separation has not tended to make religion less 
of a force in America as respects either political or social 
reform, nor does it prevent the people from considering Chris- 
tianity to be the national religion, and their commonwealth 
an object of the Divine care. . 

XII. Party Machinery. 2 — The tremendous power of party 
organization has been described. It enslaves local officials, it 
increases the tendency to regard members of Congress as mere 
delegates, it keeps men of independent character out of local 
and national politics, it puts bad men into place, it perverts 
the wishes of the people, it has in some places set up a tyranny 
under the forms of democracy. Yet it is hard to see how free 
government can go on without parties, and certain that the 
strenuous rivalry of parties will not dispense with machinery. 
The moral for Europe seems to be the old one that "Perpetual 
vigilance is the price of freedom," that the best citizens must, 
as the Americans say, "take hold," must by themselves accept- 
ing posts in the organization keep it from falling into the hands 

i See Chapters CVI and CVII. 2 See Chapters LIX-LXV. 



CHAP, c AMERICAN EXPERIENCE FOR EUROl'i; 613 

of professionals, must entrust as few lucrative places as pos- 
sible to popular election or political patronage, must leave 
reasonable discretion to their representatives in the national 
councils, must endeavour to maintain in politics the same 
standard of honour which guides them in private life. These 
are moral rather than political precepts, but party organization 
is one of those things which is good or bad according to the 
spirit with which it is worked. 

XIII. TJie Unattractiveness of Politics. 1 — Partly from the 
influence of party machinery, partly from peculiarities of the 
Federal Constitution, partly from social and economical causes, 
the American system does not succeed in bringing the best 
men to the top. Yet in democracy more perhaps than in 
other governments, seeing it is the most delicate and difficult 
of governments, it is essential that the best men should come 
to the top. There is in this fact matter for Europeans to 
reflect upon, for they have assumed that political success will 
always attract ambition, and that public life will draw at least 
enough of the highest ability into its whirlpool. America 
disproves the assumption. Her example does not, however, 
throw much light on the way to keep politics attractive, for her 
conditions are dissimilar to those of European countries, where 
ambition finds less scope for distinction in the field of industrial 
enterprise, and rank is less disjoined from political eminence. 

XIV. TJie Poiver of Wealth. — Plutocracy used to be consid- 
ered a form of oligarchy, and opposed to democracy. But 
there is a strong plutocratic element infused into American 
democracy ; and the fact that constitutions ignore differences 
of property, treating all voters alike, makes it neither less 
potent nor less mischievous. Of the power of wealth demo- 
cracies may say, with Dante, Here we find the great enemy. 2 
It has doubtless afflicted all forms of government. But it 
seems specially pernicious in a free government, because when 
the disease appeared under despotisms and oligarchies, freedom 
was deemed the only and sufficient antidote. Experience, how- 
ever, shows that in democracies it is no less menacing, for the 
personal interest of the average man in good government — 
and in a large democracy he feels himself insignificant — is 

i See Chapters LVIII and LXXIV. 

2 Quivi trovarumo Pluto il graii nemico: Inf. VI, 115. 



614 ILLUSTRATIONS AND REFLECTIONS part v 

overborne by the inducements which, wealth, skilfully em- 
ployed, can offer him; and when once the average man's 
standard of public virtue has been lowered by the sight of 
numerous deflections from virtue in others, great is the diffi- 
culty of raising it. In the United States the money power 
acts by corrupting sometimes the voter, sometimes the juror, 
sometimes the legislator, sometimes a whole party; for large sub- 
scriptions and promises of political support have been known 
to influence a party to procure or refrain from such legislation 
as wealth desires or fears. The rich, it is but fair to say, and 
especially great corporations, have not only enterprises to 
promote but dangers to escape from at the hands of unscrupu- 
lous demagogues or legislators. But whether their action 
has this palliation or not, the belief, often well grounded, 
that they exercise a secret power in their own interests, 
exasperates other sections of the community, and has been a 
factor in producing not only unwise legislation directed against 
them, but also outbreaks of lawless violence. 

To these scattered observations, which I have made abrupt 
in order to avoid being led into repetitions, I need hardly add 
the general moral which the United States teach, that the 
masses of the people are wiser, fairer, and more temperate in 
any matter to which they can be induced to bend their minds 
than most European philosophers have believed it possible for 
the masses of the people to be ; because this is the moral which 
the preceding chapters on Public Opinion have been intended 
to make clear. But the reader is again to be reminded that 
while the foregoing points are those in which American expe- 
rience seems most directly available for European states, he 
must not expect the problems America has solved, or those 
which still perplex her, to reappear in Europe in the same 
forms. Such facts — to mention two only out of many — as 
the abundance of land and the absence of menace from other 
Powers show how dissimilar are the conditions under which 
popular government works in the Eastern and in the Western 
hemisphere. Nothing can be more instructive than American 
experience if it be discreetly used, nothing will be more mis- 
leading to one who tries to apply it without allowing for the 
differences of economic and social environment. 



PART VI 

SOCIAL INSTITUTIONS 



CHAPTER CI 

THE BAR 

Among the organized institutions of a country which, while 
not directly a part of the government, influence politics as well 
as society, the Bar has in England, Scotland, and France 
played a part only second to that played by the Church. Cer- 
tainly no English institution is more curiously and distinc- 
tively English than this body, with its venerable traditions, its 
aristocratic sympathies, its strong, though now declining, cor- 
porate spirit, its affinity for certain forms of literature, its 
singular relation, half of dependence, half of condescension, to 
the solicitors, its friendly control over its official superiors, 
the judges. To see how such an institution has shaped itself 
and thriven in a new country is to secure an excellent means 
of estimating the ideas, conditions, and habits which affect 
and colour the social system of that country, as Avell as to 
examine one of the chief among the secondary forces of public 
life. It is therefore not merely for the sake of satisfying the 
curiosity of English lawyers that I propose to sketch some of 
the salient features of the legal profession as it exists in the 
United States, and to show how it has developed apart from 
the restrictions imposed on it in England by ancient custom, 
and under the unchecked operation of the laws of demand and 
supply. 

When England sent out her colonies, the Bar, like most of 
her other institutions, reappeared upon the new soil, and had 
gained before the revolution of 1776 a position similar to that 
it held at home, not owing to any deliberate purpose on the 
part of those who led and ruled the new communities (for the 
Puritan settlers at least held lawyers in slight esteem), but 
because the conditions of a progressive society required its 
existence. That disposition to simplify and popularize law, to 

617 



618 SOCIAL INSTITUTIONS pabt vi 

make it less of a mystery and bring it more within the reach 
of an average citizen, which is strong in modern Europe, is 
of course still stronger in a colony, and naturally tended in 
America to lessen the corporate exclusiveness of the legal 
profession, and do away with the antiquated rules which had 
governed it in England. On the other hand, the increasing 
complexity of relations in modern society, and the development 
of many new arts and departments of applied science, bring 
into an always clearer light the importance of a division of 
labour, and, by attaching greater value to special knowledge 
and skill, tend to limit and define the activity of every profes- 
sion. In spite, therefore, of the democratic aversion to exclu- 
sive organizations, the lawyers in America soon acquired pro- 
fessional habits and a corporate spirit similar to that of their 
brethren in England ; and some fifty years ago they had 
reached a power and social consideration relatively greater 
than the Bar has ever held on the eastern side of the Atlantic. 
But the most characteristic peculiarity of the English system 
disappeared. In the United States, as in some parts of Europe, 
and most British colonies, there is no distinction between 
barristers and attorneys. Every lawyer, or " counsel," is per- 
mitted to take every kind of business : he may argue a cause 
in the Supreme Federal court at Washington, or write six-and- 
eightpenny letters from a shopkeeper to an obstinate debtor. 
He may himself conduct all the proceedings in a cause, confer 
with the client, issue the writ, draw the declaration, get together 
the evidence, prepare the brief, and conduct the case when it 
comes on in court. He is employed, not like the English bar- 
rister, by another professional man, but by the client himself, 
who seeks him out and makes his bargain directly with him, 
just as in England people call in a physician or make their 
bargain with an architect. In spite, however, of this union of 
all a lawyer's functions in the same person, considerations of 
practical convenience have in many places established a divi- 
sion of labour similar to that existing in England. Where two 
or more lawyers are in partnership, it often happens that one 
member undertakes the court work and the duties of the advo- 
cate, while another or others transact the rest of the business, 
see the clients, conduct correspondence, hunt up evidence, 
prepare witnesses for examination, and manage the thousand 



THE BAR 619 



little things for which a man goes to his attorney. The merits 
of the plan are obvious. It saves the senior member from 
drudgery, and from being distracted by petty details; it intro- 
duces the juniors to business, and enables them to profit by 
the experience and knowledge of the mature practitioner ; it 
secures to the client the benefit of a closer attention to details 
than a leading counsel could be expected to give, while yet 
the whole of his suit is managed in the same office, and the 
responsibility is not divided, as in England, between two inde- 
pendent personages. However, the custom of forming legal 
partnerships is one which prevails much more extensively in 
some parts of the Union than in others. In Boston and New 
York, for instance, it is common, and I think in the Western 
cities ; in the towns of Connecticut and in Philadelphia one 
is told that it is rather the exception. Even apart from 
the arrangement which distributes the various kinds of busi- 
ness among the members of a firm, there is a certain tendency 
for woTk of a different character to fall into the hands of dif- 
ferent men. A beginner is of course glad enough to be em- 
ployed in any way, and takes willingly the smaller jobs ; he 
will conduct a defence in a police-court, or manage the recovery 
of a tradesman's petty debt. I remember having been told by 
a very eminent counsel that when an old apple-woman applied 
to his son to have her market licence renewed, which for some 
reason had been withdrawn, he had insisted on the young 
man's taking up the case. As he rises, it becomes easier for 
him to select his business, and when he has attained real 
eminence he may confine himself entirely to the higher walks, 
arguing cases and giving opinions, but leaving most of the 
preparatory work and all the communications with the client 
to be done by the juniors who are retained along with him. 
He is, in fact, with the important difference that he is liable 
for any negligence, very much in the position of an English 
Queen's counsel, and his services are sought, not only by the 
client, but by another counsel, or firm of counsel, who have an 
important suit in hand, to which they feel themselves unequal. 
He may however be, and often is, retained directly by the 
client ; and in that case he is allowed to retain a junior to aid 
him. or to desire the client to do so, naming the man he wishes 
for, a thing which the etiquette of the English bar is supposed 



620 SOCIAL INSTITUTIONS part vi 

to forbid. In every great city there are several practitioners 
of this kind, men who only undertake the weightiest business 
at the largest fees ; and even in the minor towns court prac- 
tice is in the hands of a comparatively small group. In one 
New England city, for instance, whose population is about 
50,000, there are, I was told, some sixty or seventy practising 
lawyers, of whom not more than ten or twelve ever conduct a 
case in court, the remainder doing what Englishmen would 
call attorney's and conveyancer's work. 

Whatever disadvantages this system of one undivided legal 
profession has, it has one conspicuous merit, on which any one 
who is accustomed to watch the career of the swarm of young 
men who annually press into the Temple or Lincoln's Inn full 
of bright hopes, may be pardoned for dwelling. It affords a 
far better prospect of speedy employment and an active pro- 
fessional life, than the beginner who is not "strongly backed" 
can look forward to in England. Private friends can do much 
more to help a young man, since he gets business direct from 
the client instead of from a solicitor ; he may pick up little 
bits of work which his prosperous seniors do not care to have, 
may thereby learn those details of practice of which in Eng- 
land a barrister often remains ignorant, may gain experience 
and confidence in his own powers, may teach himself how to 
speak and how to deal with men, may gradually form a con- 
nection among those for whom he has managed trifling mat- 
ters, may commend himself to the good opinion of older 
lawyers, who will be glad to retain him as their junior when 
they have a brief to give away. So far he is better off than 
the young barrister in England. He is also, in another way, 
more favourably placed than the young English solicitor. He 
is not taught to rely in cases of legal difficulty upon the 
opinion of another person. He is not compelled to seek his 
acquaintances among the less cultivated members of the pro- 
fession, to the majority of whom law is not much of an art 
and nothing of a science. He does not see the path of an 
honourable ambition, the opportunities of forensic oratory, 
the access to the judicial bench, irrevocably closed against 
him, but has the fullest freedom to choose whatever line his 
talents fit him for. Every English lawyer's experience, as it 
furnishes him with cases where a man was obliged to remain 



THE BAR 621 



an attorney who would have shone as a counsel, so also sug- 
gests cases of persons who were believed, and with reason 
believed, by their friends to possess the highest forensic abili- 
ties, but literally never had the chance of displaying them, 
and languished on in obscurity, while others in every way 
inferior to them became, by mere dint of practice, fitter for 
ultimate success. Quite otherwise in America. There, accord- 
ing to the universal witness of laymen and lawyers, no man 
who combines fair talents with reasonable industry fails to 
earn a competence, and to have, within the first six or seven 
years of his career, an opportunity of showing whether he 
has in him the makings of something great. • This is not due, 
as might be supposed, merely to the greater opportunities 
which everybody has in a new country, and which make Amer- 
ica the working man's paradise, for, in the Eastern States at 
least, the professions are nearly as crowded as they are in 
England. It is owing to the greater variety of practice which 
lies open to a young man, and to the fact that his patrons are 
the general public, and not as in England, a limited class who 
have their own friends and connections to push. Certain it is 
that American lawyers profess themselves unable to under- 
stand how it can happen that deserving men remain briefless 
for the best years of their life, and are at last obliged to quit 
the profession in disgust. 

A further result of the more free and open character of the 
profession may be seen in the absence of many of those rules 
of etiquette which are, in theory at least, observed by the 
English lawyer. It is not thought undignified, except in the 
great cities of the Eastern States, for a counsel to advertise 
himself in the newspapers. 1 He is allowed to make whatever 
bargain he pleases with his client : he may do work for noth- 
ing, or may stipulate for a commission on the result of the 
suit or a share in whatever the verdict produces — a practice 
which is open to grave objections, and which, in the opinion 
of more than one eminent American lawyer, has produced a 
good deal of the mischief which caused it to be seventeen cen- 
turies ago prohibited at Rome. However, in some cities the 
sentiment of the Bar seems to be opposed to the practice, and 

1 California has recently passed a statute forbidding counsel to advertise 
for divorce cases. 



622 SOCIAL INSTITUTIONS part vi 

in some States there are rules limiting it. A counsel can, 
except in New Jersey (a State curiously conservative in some 
points), bring an action for the recovery of his fees, and, pan 
ratione, can be sued for negligence in the conduct of a cause. 

A lawyer can readily gain admission to practise in the Fed- 
eral courts, and may by courtesy practise in the courts of 
every State. But each State has its own Bar, that is to say, 
there is no general or national organization of the legal pro- 
fession, the laws regulating which are State laws, differing in 
each of the forty-four commonwealths. In no State does there 
exist any body resembling the English Inns of Court, with 
the right of admitting to the practice of public advocacy and 
of exercising a disciplinary jurisdiction : and in very few have 
any professional associations resembling the English Incorpo- 
rated Law Society obtained statutory recognition. Usually 
the State law vests in the courts the duty of admitting per- 
sons as attorneys, and of excluding them if guilty of any 
serious offence. But the oversight of the judges is necessarily 
so lax that in many States and cities voluntary Bar Associa- 
tions have been formed with the view of exercising a sort of 
censorship over the profession. Such associations can black- 
ball bad candidates for admission, and expel offenders against 
professional honour; and they are said to accomplish some 
good in this way. More rarely they institute proceedings to 
have black sheep removed from practice. Being virtually an 
open profession, like stockbroking or engineering, the profes- 
sion has less of a distinctive character and corporate feeling 
than the barristers of England or Erance have, and I think 
rather less than the solicitors of England have. Neither wig, 
bands, gown, cap, nor any other professional costume is worn, 
and this circumstance, trivial as it may seem, no doubt con- 
tributes to weaken the sentiment of professional privilege and 
dignity, and to obscure the distinction between the advocate 
in his individual capacity and the advocate as an advocate, 
not deemed to be pledging himself to the truth of any fact 
or the soundness of any argument, but simply presenting his 
client's case as it is presented to him. 

In most States the judges impose some sort of examination 
on persons seeking to be admitted to practice, often delegating 
the duty of questioning the candidate to two or three counsel 



THE BAB 628 



named for the purpose. Candidates are sometimes required 
to have read for a certain period in a lawyer's office, but this 
condition is easily evaded, and the examination, nowhere strict, 
is often little better than a form or a farce. Notwithstanding 
this laxity, the level of legal attainment is in some cities as 
high or higher than among either the barristers or the solici- 
tors of London. This is due to the extraordinary excellence 
of many of the law schools. I do not know if there is any- 
thing in which America has advanced more beyond the mother 
country than in the provision she makes for legal education. 1 
Thirty years ago, when there was nothing that could be called 
a scientific school of law in England, the Inns, of Court having 
practically ceased to teach law, and the universities having 
allowed their two or three old chairs to fall into neglect and 
provided scarce any new ones, several American universities 
possessed well-equipped law departments, giving a highly effi- 
cient instruction. Even now, when England has bestirred her- 
self to make a more adequate provision for the professional 
training of both barristers and solicitors, this provision seems 
insignificant beside that which we find in the United States, 
where, not to speak of minor institutions, all the leading uni- 
versities possess law schools, in each of which every branch of 
Anglo-American law, i.e. common law and equity as modified 
by Federal and State constitutions and statutes, is taught by a 
strong staff of able men, sometimes including the most eminent 
lawyers of the State. 2 Here at least the principle of demand 
and supply works to perfection. No one is obliged to attend 
these courses in order to obtain admission to practice, and the 
examinations are generally too lax to require elaborate prepara- 
tion. But the instruction is found so valuable, so helpful for 

1 Modern England seems to stand alone in her comparative neglect of the 
theoretic study of law as a preparation for legal practice. Other countries, 
from Germany at the one end of the scale of civilization to the Mohammedan 
East at the other end, exact three, four, five, or even more years spent in this 
study hefore the aspirant begins his practical work. 

2 This instruction is in most of the law schools confined to Anglo-American 
law, omitting theoretic; jurisprudence {i.e. the science of law in general), 
Roman law, except, of course, in Louisiana, where the Civil Law is the basis 
of the code, and international law. The latter subjects are, however now 
beginning to be more frequently taught, though sometimes placed in the 
historical curriculum. In some law schools mncli educational value is attrib- 
uted to the moot courts in which the students are set to argue cases, a method 
much in vogue in England two centuries ago. 



624 SOCIAL INSTITUTIONS part vi 

professional success, that young men throng the lecture halls, 
willingly spending two or three years in the scientific study of 
the law which they might have spent in the chambers of a 
practising lawyer as pupils or as junior partners. The indirect 
results of this theoretic study in maintaining a philosophical 
interest in the law among the higher class of practitioners, and 
a higher sense of the dignity of their profession, are doubly 
valuable in that absence of corporate organizations on which I 
have already commented. 1 

In what may be called habits of legal thought, their way of 
regarding legal questions, their attitude towards changes in 
the form or substance of the law, American practitioners, 
while closely resembling their English brethren, seem on the 
whole more conservative. Such law reforms as have been 
effected in England during the last thirty years have mostly 
come from the profession itself. They have been carried 
through Parliament by attorneys-general or lord-chancellors, 
usually with the tacit approval of the bar and the solicitors. 
The masses and their leaders have seldom ventured to lay 
profane fingers on the law, either in despair of understanding 
it or because they saw nearer and more important work to be 
done. Hence the profession has in England been seldom 
roused to oppose projects of change ; and its division into two 
branches, with interests sometimes divergent, weakens its 
political influence. In the United States, although the legisla- 
tures are largely composed of lawyers, many of these have 
little practice, little knowledge, comparatively little profes- 
sional feeling. Hence there is usually a latent and sometimes 
an open hostility between the better kind of lawyers and the 
impulses of the masses, seeking probably at the instigation of 
some lawyer of a demagogic turn to carry through legal 
changes. The defensive attitude which the upper part of the 
profession is thus led to assume fosters those conservative 
instincts which a system of case law engenders, and which are 

1 Some of the best American law-books, as, for instance, that admirable 
series which made Justice Story famous, have been produced as lectures given 
to students. Story was professor at Harvard while judge of the Supreme 
court, and used to travel to and from Washington to give his lectures. A few 
years ago there were several men in large practice who used to teach in the 
law schools out of public spirit and from their love of the subject, rather than 
in respect of the comparatively small payment they received. 



THE BAR 625 



further stimulated by the habit of constantly recurring to a 
fundamental instrument, the Federal Constitution. Thus one 
finds the same dislike to theory, the same attachment to old 
forms, the same unwillingness to be committed to any broad 
principle which distinguished the orthodox type of English 
lawyers sixty years ago. Prejudices survive on the shores of 
the Mississippi which Bentham assailed seventy years ago 
when those shores were inhabited by Indians and beavers ; 
and in Chicago, a place which living men remember as a lonely 
swamp, special demurrers, replications de injuria, and various 
elaborate formalities of pleading which were swept away by 
the English Common Law Procedure Acts of 1850 and 1852, 
flourish and abound to this day. 

Is the American lawyer more like an English barrister or 
an English solicitor ? This depends on the position he holds. 
The leading counsel of a city recall the former class, the aver- 
age practitioners of the smaller places and rural districts the 
latter. But as every American lawyer has the right of advo- 
cacy in the highest courts, and is accustomed to advise clients 
himself instead of sending a case for opinion to a counsel of 
eminence, the level of legal knowledge — that is to say, knowl- 
edge of the principles and substance of the law, and not 
merely of the rules of practice — is somewhat higher than 
among English solicitors, while the familiarity with details 
of practice is more certain to be found than among English 
barristers. Neither an average barrister nor an average solici- 
tor is so likely to have a good working all-round knowledge 
of the whole field of common law, equity, admiralty law, pro- 
bate law, patent law, as an average American city practitioner, 
nor to be so smart and quick in applying his knowledge. On 
the other hand, it must be admitted that England possesses 
more men eminent as draftsmen, though perhaps fewer emi- 
nent in patent cases, and that much American business, espe- 
cially in State courts, is done in a way which European critics 
might call lax and slovenly. 

I have already observed that both in Congress and in most 
of the State legislatures the lawyers outnumber the persons 
belonging to other walks of life. Nevertheless, they have not 
that hold on politics now which they had in the first and sec- 
ond generations of the Republic. Politics have, in falling so 
VOL. II 2 s 



626 SOCIAL INSTITUTIONS part vi 

completely into the hands of party organizations, become more 
distinctly a separate profession, and an engrossing profession, 
which a man occupied with his clients cannot follow. Thus 
among the leading lawyers, the men who win wealth and 
honour by advocacy, comparatively few enter a legislative 
body or become candidates for public office. Their influence 
is still great when any question arises on which the profession, 
or the more respectable part of it, stands together. Many 
bad measures have been defeated in State legislatures by the 
action of the Bar, many bad judicial appointments averted. 
Their influence strengthens the respect of the people for the 
Constitution, and is felt by the judges when they are called 
to deal with constitutional questions. But taking a general 
survey of the facts of to-day, as compared with those of sixty 
years ago, it is clear that the Bar counts for less as a guid- 
ing and restraining power, tempering the crudity or haste of 
democracy by its attachment to rule and precedent, than it 
did then. 

A similar decline, due partly to this diminished political 
authority, may be observed in its social position. In a coun- 
try where there is no titled class, no landed class, no military 
class, the chief distinction which popular sentiment can lay 
hold of as raising one set of persons above another is the char- 
acter of their occupation, the degree of culture it implies, the 
extent to which it gives them an honourable prominence. 
Such distinctions carried great weight in the early days of the 
Eepublic, when society was smaller and simpler than it has 
now become. But of late years not only has the practice of 
public speaking ceased to be, as it once was, almost their 
monopoly, not only has the direction of politics slipped in 
great measure from their hands, but the growth of huge mer- 
cantile fortunes and of a financial class has, as in France and 
England, lowered the relative importance and dignity of the 
Bar. An individual merchant holds perhaps no better place 
compared with an average individual lawyer than he did forty 
years ago ; but the millionaire is a much more frequent and 
potent personage than he was then, and outshines everybody 
in the country. Now and then a brilliant orator or writer 
achieves fame of a different and higher kind ; but in the main 
it is the glory of successful commerce which in America and 



THE BAB 627 



Europe now draws wondering eyes. Wealth, it is true, is by 
no means out of the reach of the leading lawyers : yet still 
not such wealth as may be and constantly is amassed by con- 
tractors, railwaymen, financial speculators, hotel proprietors, 
newspaper owners, and retail storekeepers. The incomes of 
the first counsel in cities like Xew York are probably as large 
as those of the great English leaders. I have heard firms men- 
tioned as dividing a sum of $250,000 (£50,000) a year, of 
which the senior member may probably have $100,000. It is, 
however, only in two or three of the greatest cities that such 
incomes can be made, and possibly not more than fifteen coun- 
sel in the whole country make by their profession more than 
$50,000 a year. Xext after wealth, education may be taken 
to be the element or quality on which social standing in a 
purely democratic country depends. In this respect the Bar 
ranks high. Most lawyers have had a college training, and 
are, by the necessity of their employment, persons of some 
mental cultivation ; in the older towns they, with the leading 
clergy, form the intellectual elite of the place, and maintain 
worthily the literary traditions of the Roman, French, English, 
and Scottish bars. But education is so much more diffused 
than formerly, and cheap literature so much more abundant, 
that they do not stand so high above the multitude as they 
once did. It may, however, still be said that the law is the 
profession which an active youth of intellectual tastes naturally 
takes to, that a large proportion of the highest talent of the 
country may be found in its ranks, and that almost all the first 
statesmen of the present and the last generation have belonged 
to it, though many soon resigned its practice. It is also 
one of the links which best serves to bind the United States 
to England. The interest of the higher class of American 
lawyers in the English law, bar, and judges, is wonderfully fresh 
and keen. An English barrister, if properly authenticated, is 
welcomed as a brother of the art, and finds the law reports of 
his own country as sedulously read and as acutely criticised as 
he would in the Temple. 1 

1 American lawyers remark that the English Law Reports have becon. 
useful since the Dumber of decisions upon the construction of statutes has so 
greatly increased. They complain i I the extreme difficulty of keeping abreast 
of the vast multitude of cases reported in their own country, from the courts 
of forty-four States as well as Federal courts. 



628 SOCIAL INSTITUTIONS 



I have left to the last the question which a stranger finds it 
most difficult to answer. The legal profession has in every 
country, apart from its relation to politics, very important func- 
tions to discharge in connection with the administration of 
justice. Its members are the confidential advisers of private 
persons, and the depositaries of their secrets. They have it in 
their power to promote or to restrain vexatious litigation, to 
become accomplices in chicane, or to check the abuse of legal 
rights in cases where morality may require men to abstain from 
exacting all that the letter of the law allows. They can exer- 
cise a powerful influence upon the magistracy by shaming an 
unjust judge, or by misusing the ascendency which they may 
happen to possess over a weak judge, or a judge who has some- 
thing to hope for from them. Does the profession in the 
United States rise to the height of these functions, and in 
maintaining its own tone, help to maintain the tone of the 
community, especially of the mercantile community, which, 
under the pressure of competition, seldom observes a higher 
moral standard than that which the law exacts ? So far as 
my limited opportunities for observation enable me to answer 
this question, I should answer it by saying that the profession, 
taken as a whole, seems to stand on a level with the profession, 
also taken as a whole, in England. But I am bound to add 
that some judicious American observers hold that the last 
thirty years have witnessed a certain decadence in the Bar of 
the greater cities. They say that the growth of enormously 
rich and powerful corporations, willing to pay vast sums for 
questionable services, has seduced the virtue of some counsel 
whose eminence makes their example important, and that 
in a few States the degradation of the Bench has led to secret 
understandings between judges and counsel for the perversion 
of justice. 

As the question of fusing the two branches of the legal 
profession into one body has been of late much canvassed in 
England, a few words may be expected as to the light which 
American experience throws upon it. 

There are two sets of persons in England who complain of 
the present arrangements — a section of the solicitors, who are 
debarred from the exercise of advocacy, and therefore from the 
great prizes of the profession; and a section of the junior bar, 



THE BAR (529 



whose members, depending entirely on the patronage of the 
solicitors, find themselves, if they happen to have no private 
connections among that branch of the profession, unable to get 
employment, since a code of etiquette forbids them to under- 
take certain sorts of work, or to do work except on a fixed 
scale of fees, or to take court work directly from a client, or 
to form partnerships with other counsel. Attempts have also 
been made to enlist the general public in favour of a change, 
by the argument that law would be cheapened if the attorney 
were allowed to argue and carry through the courts a cause 
which he has prepared for trial. 

There are three points of view from which the merits or de- 
merits of a change may be regarded. These are the interests 
respectively of the profession, of the client, and of the com- 
munity at large. 

As far as the advantage of the individual members of the 
profession is concerned, the example of the United States 
seems to show that the balance of advantage is in favour of 
uniting barristers and attorneys in one body. The attorney 
would have a wider field, greater opportunities of distinguish- 
ing himself, and the legitimate satisfaction of seeing his cause 
through all its stages. The junior barrister would find it 
easier to get on, even as an advocate, and, if he discovered 
that advocacy was not his line, could subside into the perhaps 
not less profitable function of a solicitor. The senior barrister 
or leader might, however, suffer, for his attention would be 
more distracted by calls of different kinds. 

The gain to the client is still clearer ; and even those (very 
few) American counsel who say that for their own sake they 
would prefer the English plan, admit that the litigant is more 
expeditiously and effectively served where he has but one 
person to look to and deal with throughout. It does not suit 
him, say the Americans, to be lathered in one shop and shaved 
in another ; he likes to go to his lawyer, tell him the facts, 
get an off-hand opinion, if the case be a simple one (as it is 
nine times out of ten), and issue his writ with some confi- 
dence : whereas under the English system he might either 
have to wait till a regular case for the opinion of counsel was 
drawn, sent to a barrister, and returned, written on, after some 
days, or else take the risk of bringing an action which turned 



630 SOCIAL INSTITUTIONS part vi 

out to be ill-founded. It may also be believed that a case is, 
on the whole, better dealt with when it is kept in one office 
from first to last, and managed by one person, or by partners 
who are in constant communication. Mistakes and oversights 
are less likely to occur, since the advocate knows the facts 
better, and has almost invariably seen and questioned the 
witnesses before he comes into court. It may indeed be said 
that an advocate does his work with more ease of conscience, 
and perhaps more sang-froid, when he knows nothing but his 
instructions. But American practitioners are all clear that 
they are able to serve their clients better than they could if 
the responsibility were divided between the man who prepares 
the case, and the man who argues or addresses the jury. 
Indeed, I have often heard them say that they could not 
understand how English counsel, who rarely see the witnesses 
beforehand, were able to conduct witness causes satisfactorily. 
If, however, we go on to ask what is the result to the whole 
community of having no distinction between the small body of 
advocates and the large body of attorneys, approval will be 
more hesitating. Society is interested in the maintenance of 
a high tone among those who have that influence on the admin- 
istration of justice and the standard of commercial morality 
which has been already adverted to. It is easier to maintain 
such a tone in a small body, which can be kept under a com- 
paratively strict control and cultivate a warm professional 
feeling than in a large body, many of whose members are 
practically just as much men of business as lawyers. And it 
may well be thought that the conscience or honour of a mem- 
ber of either branch of the jDrofession is exposed to less strain 
where the two branches are kept distinct. The counsel is 
under less temptation to win his cause by doubtful means, 
since he is removed from the client by the interposition of the 
attorney, and therefore less personally identified with the 
client's success. He probably has not that intimate knowl- 
edge of the client's affairs which he must have if he had pre- 
pared the whole case, and is therefore less likely to be drawn 
into speculating, to take an obvious instance, in the shares of 
a client company, or otherwise playing a double and disloyal 
game. Similarly it may be thought that the attorney also is 
less tempted than if he appeared himself in court, and were 



chap. 01 THE BAK 631 

not obliged, in carrying out the schemes of a fraudulent client, 
to call in the aid of another practitioner, amenable to a strict 
professional discipline. Where the advocate is also the attor- 
ney, he may be more apt, when he sees the witnesses, to lead 
them, perhaps unconsciously, to stretch their recollection ; 
and it is harder to check the practice of paying for legal 
services by a share of the proceeds of the action. 

Looking at the question as a whole, I doubt whether a 
study of the American arrangements is calculated to com- 
mend them for imitation, or to induce England to allow her 
historic bar to be swallowed up and vanish in the more 
numerous branch of the profession. Those arrangements, how- 
ever, suggest some useful minor changes in the present English 
rules. The passage from each branch to the other might be 
made easier ; barristers might be permitted to form open (as 
they now sometimes do covert) partnerships among them- 
selves ; students of both branches might be educated and 
examined together in the professional law schools as they 
now are, with admittedly good results, in the universities. 



CHAPTER CII 

THE BENCH 

So much has already been said regarding the constitution 
and jurisdiction of the various courts. Federal and State, that 
what remains to be stated regarding the judicial bench need 
refer only to its personal and social side. What is the social 
standing of the judges, the average standard of their learning 
and capacity, their integrity and fidelity in the discharge of 
functions whose gravity seems to increase with the growth of 
wealth ? 

The English reader who wishes to understand the American 
judiciary ought to begin by realizing the fact that his concep- 
tion of a judge is purely English, not applicable to any other 
country. Eor some centuries Englishmen have associated 
the ideas of power, dignity, and intellectual eminence with 
the judicial office ; a tradition, shorter no doubt, but still of 
respectable length, has made them regard it as incorruptible. 
The judges are among the greatest permanent officials of the 
state. They have earned their place by success, more or less 
brilliant, but most always considerable, in the struggles of the 
Bar; they are removable by the Crown only upon an address 
of both Houses of Parliament ; they enjoy large incomes and 
great social respect. Some of them sit in the House of Lords ; 
some are members of the Privy Council. When they traverse 
the country on their circuits, they are received by the High 
Sheriff of each county with the ceremonious pomp of the 
Middle Ages, and followed hither and thither by admiring 
crowds. The criticisms of an outspoken press rarely assail 
their ability, hardly ever their fairness. Even the Bar, which 
watches them daily, which knows all their ins and outs (to use 
an American phrase) both before and after their elevation, 
treats them with more respect than is commonly shown by the 



ohaf. on THE BENCH 633 

clergy to the bishops. Thus the English form their concep- 
tion of the judge as a personage necessarily and naturalh 
nitied and upright ; and, having- formed it, they carry it abroad 
with them like their notions of land tenure and other insular 
conceptions, and are astonished when they find that it does 
not hold in other countries. It is a fine and fruitful concep- 
tion, and one which one might desire to see accepted every- 
where, though it has been secured at the cost of compelling 
litigants to carry to London much business which in other 
countries would have been dealt with in local courts. But it 
is peculiar to England; the British judge is as abnormal as the 
British Constitution, and. owes his character to a not less curi- 
ous and complex combination of conditions. In most parts of 
the Continent the judge, even of the superior courts, does not 
hold a very high social position. He is not chosen from the 
ranks of the Bar, and has not that community of feeling with 
it which England has found so valuable. Its leaders outshine 
him in France ; the famous professors of law often exert a 
greater authority in Germany. His independence, and even 
purity, are not always above suspicion. In no part of Europe 
do his wishes and opinions carry the same weight, or does he 
command the same deference as in England. The English 
ought not, therefore, to be surprised at finding him in America 
different from what they expect, for it is not so much his in- 
feriority there that is exceptional as his excellence in England. 

In America, the nine Federal judges of the Supreme court 
retain much of the dignity which surrounds the 'English Su- 
preme Court of Judicature. They are almost the only officials 
who are appointed for life, and their functions are of the 
utmost importance to the smooth working of the Constitution. 
Accordingly great public interest is felt in the choice of a 
judge, and the post is an object of ambition. Though now 
and then an eminent lawyer may decline it because he is 
already making by practice five times as much as the salary 
it carries, still there has been no difficulty in finding first-rate 
men to fill the court. The minor Federal judges are usually 
persons of ability and experience. They are inadequately 
paid, but the life tenure makes the place desired and secures 
respect for it. 

Of the State judges it is hard to speak generally, because 



634 SOCIAL INSTITUTIONS part vi 



there are great differences between State and State. In six or 
seven commonwealths, of which Massachusetts is the best ex- 
ample among Eastern and Michigan among Western States, they 
stand high — that is to say, the post attracts a prosperous 
barrister though he will lose in income, or a law professor 
though he must sacrifice his leisure. But in some States it is 
otherwise. A place on the bench of the superior courts carries 
little honour, and commands but slight social consideration. 
It is lower than that of an English county court judge or stipen- 
diary magistrate, or of a Scotch sheriff-substitute. It raises no 
presumption that its holder is able or cultivated or trusted by 
his fellow-citizens. He may be all of these, but if so, it is in 
respect of his personal merits that he will be valued, not for 
his official position. Often he stands below the leading mem- 
bers of the State or city bar in all these points and does not 
move in the best society. 1 Hence a leading counsel seldom 
accepts the post, and men often resign a judgeship, or when 
their term of office expires do not seek re-election, but return 
to. practice at the bar. 2 Hence, too, a judge is not expected to 
set an example of conformity to the conventional standards of 
decorum. No one is surprised to see him in low company, or 
to hear, in the ruder parts of the South and West, that he 
took part in a shooting affray. He is as welcome to be " a 
child of nature and of freedom " as any private citizen. 

The European reader may think that these facts not only 
betoken but tend to perpetuate a low standard of learning and 
capacity among the State judges, and from this low standard 
he will go on to conclude that justice must be badly admin- 
istered, and will ask with surprise why an intelligent and 
practical people allow this very important part of their public 
work to be ill discharged. I shrink from making positive 
statements on so large a matter as the administration of justice 

1 A prominent New Yorker once said to me, speaking of one of the chief 
judges of the city, " I don't think him such a had fellow ; he has always been 
very friendly to me, and would give me a midnight injunction or do anything 
else for me at a moment's notice. And he's not an ill-natured man. But, of 
course, he's the last person I should dream of asking to my house." Things 
are better in New York to-day. 

2 Most States are full of ex-judges practising at the bar, the title being 
continued as a matter of courtesy to the person who has formerly enjoyed 
it, and sometimes even extended to an elderly counsel who has never sat on 
the bench. For social purposes, once a judge, always a judge. 



chap, on THE BENCH 

over a vast country whose States differ iD many respects. But 
bo far as 1 could ascertain, civil justice is better administered 
than might be expected from the character which the Bench 
bears in most of the States. In the Federal courts and in the 
superior courts of the six or seven States just mentioned it is 
equal to the justice dispensed in the superior courts of England, 
France, and Germany. In the remainder it is inferior, that is 
to say, civil trials, whether the issue be of law or of fact, more 
frequently give an unsatisfactory result ; the opinions de- 
livered by the judges are wanting in scientific accuracy, and 
the law becomes loose and uncertain. 1 This inferiority is 
more or less marked according to the general tone of the 
State, the better States taking more pains to secure respectable 
men. That it is everywhere less marked than a priori reason- 
ings would have suggested, may be ascribed partly to the way 
shrewd juries have of rendering substantially just verdicts, 
partly to the ability of the Bar, whose arguments make up 
for a judge's want of learning, by giving him the means of 
reaching a sound decision, partly to that native acuteness 
of Americans which enables them to handle any sort of prac- 
tical work, roughly perhaps, but well enough for the absolute 
needs of the case. The injury to the quality of State law is 
mitigated by the fact that abundance of good law is produced 
by the Federal courts, by the highest courts of the best States, 
and by the judges of England, whose reported decisions are 
frequently referred to. Having constantly questioned those 
I met on the subject, I have heard comparatively few r com- 
plaints from commercial men as to the inefficiency of State 
tribunals, and not many even from the leading lawyers, though 
their interest in the scientific character of law makes them 
severe critics of current legislation, and opponents of these 
schemes for codifying the common law which have been 
dangled before the multitude in several States. It is other- 
wise as regards criminal justice. It is accused of being slow, 
uncertain, and unduly lenient both to crimes of violence and 
to commercial frauds. Yet the accusers charge the fault less 
on the judges than on the weakness of juries, 2 and on the 

1 The last Constitution of California requires the judges of the higher courts 
to give their decisions in writing. 

2 There are places where the purity of juries is not above suspicion. New 



C36 SOCIAL INSTITUTIONS part vi 

facilities for escape which a cumbrous and highly technical 
procedure, allowing numerous opportunities for interposing 
delays and raising points of law, provides for prisoners. 1 In- 
dulgence to prisoners is now as marked as harshness to them 
was in England before the days of Bentham and Romilly. The 
legislatures must bear the blame of this procedure, though 
stronger men on the Bench would more often overrule trivial 
points of law and expedite convictions. 

The causes which have lowered the quality of the State 
judges have been referred to in previous chapters. Shortly 
stated they are : the smallness of the salaries paid, the limited 
tenure of office, often for seven years only, and the method of 
appointment, nominally by popular election, practically by the 
agency of party wirepullers. The first two causes have pre- 
vented the ablest lawyers, the last often prevents the most 
honourable men, from seeking the post. All are the result of 
democratic theory, of the belief in equality and popular sover- 
eignty pushed to extremes. And this theory has aggravated 
the mischief in withdrawing from the judge, when it has 
appointed him, those external badges of dignity which, childish 
as they may appear to the philosopher, have power over the 
imagination of the mass of mankind, and are not without a 
useful reflex influence on the person whom they surround, rais- 
ing his sense of his position, and reminding him of its respon- 
sibilities. Xo American magistrate, except the judges of the 

York has recently created a new office, that of Warden of the Grand Jnry. 
As a distinguished lawyer observed in mentioning this, Quis custodi et ipsum 
custodem ? 

1 Even judges suffer from this misplaced leniency. I heard of a case which 
happened in Kentucky a few years ago. A decree of foreclosure was pro- 
nounced by a respected judge against a defendant of good local family 
connections. The judge could not do otherwise than pronounce it, for there 
was practically no defence. As the judge was walking from the court to the 
railway station the same afternoon the defendant, who was waiting near 
the road, shot him dead. It was hard to avoid arresting and trying a man 
guilty of so flagrant an offence, so arrested he was, tried, and convicted; but 
on an allegation of lunacy being put forward, the Court of Appeals ordered a 
new trial; he was acquitted on the ground of insanity, under instructions 
based on the opinion of an appellate court, and presently allowed to escape 
into Ohio from the asylum to which he had been consigned. There was, I 
was told, a good deal of sympathy for him. 

Cheisly of Dairy, the father of the famous Lady Grange, got into trouble 
in Scotland early in last century for shooting a judge who had decided against 
him, but was not so indulgently dealt with. 



THE BENCH 68 



Supreme court when sitting at Washington, and those of the 
Intermediate Federal Courts of Appeal, the judges of the New 

York Court of Appeals at Albany, and these of the Supreme 
court of Pennsylvania, wears any robe of office or other dis- 
tinctive dress, or has any attendant to escort him, 1 or is in any 
respect treated differently from an ordinary citizen. Popular 
sentiment tolerates nothing that seems to elevate a man above 
his fellows, even when his dignity is really the dignity of the 
people who have put him where he is. I remember in Xew York 
under the reign of Boss Tweed to have been taken into one of 
the courts. An ill-omened looking man, flashily dressed, and 
rude in demeanour, was sitting behind a table, two men in 
front were addressing him, the rest of the room was given up 
to disorder. Had one not been told that he was a judge of 
the highest court of the city, one might have taken him for 
a criminal. His jurisdiction was unlimited in amount, and 
though an appeal lay from him to the Court of Appeals of the 
State, his power of issuing injunctions put all the property in 
the district at his mercy. This was what democratic theory 
had brought Xew York to. For the change which, that State 
made in 1846 was a perfectly wanton change. Xo practical 
object was to be gained by it. There had been an excellent 
Bench, adorned, as it happened, by one of the greatest judges 
of modern times, the illustrious Chancellor Kent. But the 
Convention of 1846 thought that the power of the people was 
insufficiently recognized while judges were named by the Gov- 
ernor and Council, and held office for life, so theory was obeyed. 
The Convention in its circular address announced, in proposing 
the election of judges for five years by the voters of the dis- 
trict, that "the happiness of the people of this State will hence- 
forth, under God, be in their own hands." But the quest of a 
more perfect freedom and equality on which the Convention 
started the people gave them in twenty-five years Judge Bar- 
nard instead of Chancellor Kent. 

The limited attainments of the Bench in many States, and 
its conspicuous inferiority to the counsel w^ho practise before 
it, are, however, less serious evils than the corruption with 

1 Save that in the rural counties of Massachusetts and possihly of some other 
New England Stare-, the sheriff, as in England, escorts the judges to and from 
the Court-h 



638 SOCIAL INSTITUTIONS part vi 

which it is often charged. Nothing has done so much to dis- 
credit American institutions in Europe as the belief that the 
fountains of justice are there generally polluted ; nor is there 
any point on which a writer treating of the United States 
would more desire to be able to set forth incontrovertible facts. 
Unluckily, this is just what from the nature of the case cannot 
be done as regards some parts of the country. There is no 
doubt as to the purity of most States, but as to others it is 
extremely hard to test the rumours that are current. I give 
such results as careful inquiries in many districts have ena- 
bled me to reach. 

The Federal judges are above suspicion. I do not know that 
any member of the Supreme court or any Circuit judge has 
been ever accused of corruption; nor have the allegations occa- 
sionally made against some of the southern District Federal 
judges been, except in one instance, seriously pressed. 

The State judges have been and are deemed honest and im- 
partial in nearly all the Northern and most of the Southern and 
Western States. In a few of these States, such as Massachu- 
setts, Pennsylvania, and Michigan, the Bench has within the 
present generation included men who would do credit to any 
court in any country. Even in other States an eminent man is 
occasionally found, as in England there are some County Court 
judges who are sounder lawyers and abler men than some of 
the persons whom political favour has of late years been unhap- 
pily permitted to raise to the bench of the High Court. 

In a few States, perhaps six or seven in all, suspicions have 
at one time or another within the last twenty years attached to 
one or more of the superior judges. Sometimes these suspi- 
cions may have been ill-founded. 1 But though I know of only 

1 A recent Western instance shows how suspicions may arise. A person 
living in the capital of the State used his intimacy with the superior judges, 
most of whom were in the habit of occasionally dining with him, to lead liti- 
gants to believe that his influence with the Bench would procure for them 
favourable decisions. Considerable sums were accordingly given him to secure 
his good word. When the litigant obtained the decision he desired, the money 
given was retained. When the case went against him, the confidant of the 
Bench was delicately scrupulous in handing it back, saying that as his influ- 
ence had failed to prevail, he could not possibly think of keeping the money. 
Everything was done in the most secret and confidential waj-, and it was not 
till after the death of this judicious dinner-giver that it was discovered that 
he had never spoken to the judges about law-suits at all, and that they had 
lain under a groundless suspicion of sharing the gains their friend had made. 



chat, cii THE BENCH 639 

One case in which they have been substantiated, there can be 
little doubt that in several instances improprieties have been 
committed. The judge may not have taken a bribe, but he has 
perverted justice at the instance of some person or persons 
who either gave him a consideration or exercised an undue in- 
fluence over him. It would not follow that in such instances 
the whole Bench was tainted; indeed 1 have never heard of a 
State in which more than two or three judges were the objects 
of distrust at the same time. 1 

In one State, viz. New York, in 1869-71, there were flagrant 
scandals which led to the disappearance of three justices of the 
superior courts who had unquestionably both sold and denied 
justice. The Tweed Ring, when masters of New York City 
and engaged in plundering its treasury, found it convenient to 
have in the seat of justice accomplices who might check inquiry 
into their misdeeds. This the system of popular elections for 
very short terms enabled them to do ; and men were accord- 
ingly placed on the Bench whom one might rather have expected 
to see in the dock — bar-room loafers, broken-down Tombs 2 at- 
torneys, needy adventurers whose want of character made them 
absolutely dependent on their patrons. Being elected for eight 
years only, these fellows were obliged to purchase re-election 
by constant subservience to the party managers. They did 
not regard social censure, for they were already excluded from 
decent society; impeachment had no terrors for them, since 
the State legislature, as well as the executive machinery of the 
city, was in the hands of their masters. It would have been 
vain to expect such people, without fear of God or man before 
their eyes, to resist the temptations which capitalists and 
powerful companies could offer. 

To what precise point of infamy they descended I cannot 

1 For instance, there is a Western State in which a year or two ago there 
was one, hut only one, of the superior j udges whose integrity was douhted. So 
little secret was made of the matter, that when a very distinguished English 
lawyer visited the city, and was taken to see the Courts sitting, the newspapers 
announced the fact next day as follows: — 

" Lord X. in the city, 
He has seen Judge Y." 

A statute of Arizona prescrihes a change of venae, where an affidavit is 
made alleging that a judge is biassed. 

-The Tombs is the name of the city prison of New York, round which 
lawyers of the Lowesl class hover in the hope oi' picking up defences. 



640 SOCIAL INSTITUTIONS part vi 

attempt, among so many discordant stories and rumours, to 
determine. It is, however, beyond a donbt that they made 
orders in defiance of the plainest rules of practice ; issued, in 
rum-shops, injunctions which they had not even read over ; 
appointed notorious vagabonds receivers of valuable property ; l 
turned over important cases to a friend of their own stamp, 
and gave whatever decision he suggested. There were mem- 
bers of the Bar who could obtain from these magistrates what- 
ever order or decree they chose to ask for. A leading lawyer 
and man of high character said to me in 1870, "When a client 

brings me a suit which is before (naming a judge), I feel 

myself bound to tell him that though I will take it if he pleases, 
he had much better give it to So-and-So (naming a lawyer), for 
we all know that he owns that judge." A system of client 
robbery had sprung up, by which each judge enriched the knot 
of disreputable lawyers who surrounded him ; he referred cases 
to them, granted them monstrous allowances in the name of 
costs, gave them receiverships with a large percentage, and so 
forth ; they in turn either at the time sharing the booty with 
him, or undertaking to do the same for him when he should 
have descended to the Bar and they have climbed to the Bench. 
Nor is there any doubt that criminals who. had any claim on 
their party often managed to elude punishment. The police, 
it was said, would not arrest such an offender if they could 
help it ; the District Attorney would avoid prosecuting ; the 
court officials, if public opinion had forced the attorney to act, 
would try to pack the jury ; the judge, if the jury seemed 
honest, would do his best to procure an acquittal ; and if, in 
spite of police, attorney, officials, and judge, the criminal was 
convicted and sentenced, he might still hope that the influence 
of his party would procure a pardon from the governor of the 

1 " In the minds of certain New York judges," said a well-known writer at 
that time, "the old-fashioned distinction between a receiver of property in a 
Court of Equity and a receiver of stolen goods at common law may be said to 
have been lost." The abuses of judicial authority were mostly perpetrated in 
the exercise of equitable jurisdiction, which is no doubt the most delicate part 
of a judge's work, not only because there is no jury, but because the effect of 
an injunction may be irremediable, whereas a decision on the main question 
may be reversed on appeal. In Scotland some of the local courts have a juris- 
diction unlimited in amount, but no action can be taken on an interdict issued 
by such a court if an appeal is made with due promptness to the Court of 
Session. 



OHAP. en THE BENCH 641 

State, or enable him in some other way to slip out of the 
grasp of justice. For governor, judge, attorney, officials, and 
police were all of them party nominees ; and if a man cannot 
count on being helped by his party at a pinch, who will be 
faithful to his party ? 

Although these malpractices diverted a good deal of busi- 
ness from the courts to private arbitration, the damage to the 
regular course of civil justice was much less than might have 
been expected. The guilty judges were but three in number, 
ami there is no reason to think that even they decided unjustly 
in an ordinary commercial suit between man and man, or took 
direct money bribes from one of the parties to such a suit. The 
better opinion seems to be that it was only where the in- 
fluence of a political party or of some particular persons came 
in that injustice was perpetrated, and the truth, I believe, was 
spoken by another judge, an honest and worthy man, who in talk- 
ing to me at the time of the most unblushing among these offend- 
ers, said, " Well, I don't much like ; he is certainly a bad 

fellow, with very little delicacy of mind. He'll give you an 
injunction without hearing what it's about. But I don't think 
he takes money down from everybody." In the instance 
which made most noise in Europe, that of the Erie Railroad 
suits, there was no need to give bribes. The gang of thieves 
who had gained control of the line and were " watering " its 
stock were leagued with the political " ringsters " who ruled 
the city and nominated the judges ; and nobody doubts that 
the monstrous decisions in these suits were obtained by the 
influence of the Tammany leaders over their judicial minions. 

The fall of the Tammany Ring was swiftly followed by the 
impeachment or resignation of these judges, and no similar 
scandal has since disgraced the Empire State, though it must 
be confessed that some of the criminal courts of the city would 
be more worthily presided over if they were "taken out of 
politics." At present New York appoints her chief city judges 
for fourteen years and pays them a large salary, so she gets 
fairly good if not first-rate men. Unhappily the magnitude of 
this one judicial scandal, happening in the greatest city of the 
Union, and the one which Europeans hear most of, has thrown 
over the integrity of the American Bench a shadow which does 
great injustice to it as a whole. 

VOL. II 2 T 



642 SOCIAL INSTITUTIONS part vi 

Although judicial purity has of late years come to be deemed 
an indispensable accompaniment of high civilization, it is one 
which has been realized in very few times and countries. 
Hesiod complained that the kings who heard the cause between 
himself and his brother received gifts to decide against him. 
Felix expected to get money for loosing St. Paul. Among 
Orientals to this day an incorruptible magistrate is a rare ex- 
ception. 1 In England a lord chancellor was removed for tak- 
ing bribes as late as the time of George I. In Spain, Portugal, 
Russia, parts of the Austro-Hungarian monarchy, and even in 
Italy, the judges, except perhaps those of the highest court, 
are not assumed by general opinion to be above suspicion. 
Many are trusted individually, but the office is not deemed to 
guarantee the honour of its occupant. Yet in all these coun- 
tries the judges are appointed by the government, and hold 
either for life or at its pleasure, 2 whereas in America suspicion 
has arisen only in States where popular election prevails ; 
that is to say, where the responsibility for a bad appointment 
cannot be fixed on any one person. The shortcomings of the 
Bench in these States do not therefore indicate unsoundness 
in the general tone either of the people or of the profession 
from whom the offenders have been taken, but are the natural 
result of a system which, so far from taking precautions to 
place worthy persons on the seat of justice, has left the choice 
of them in four cases out of five to a secret combination of 
wirepullers. Thus we may note with satisfaction that the 
present tendency is not only to make judges more independent 
by lengthening their term of office but to. withdraw their ap- 
pointment from popular vote and restore it to the governor, 
from whom, as a responsible officer, the public may exact the 
utmost care in the selection of able and upright men. 

1 In Egypt I was told in 1888, that there might be here and there among the 
native judges a man who did not take bribes, but probably not more than 
two or three in the whole country. Things are, however, now mending there. 

2 There is the important difference between these countries and England 
that in all of them not only is little or no use made of the civil jury, but public 
opinion is less active and justice more localized, i.e. a smaller proportion of 
important suits are brought before the supreme courts of the capital. The 
centralization of English justice, costly to suitors, has contributed to make 
law more pure as. well aa-more scientific. 



CHAPTER CIII 

RAILROADS 

No one will expect to find in a book like this a description 
of that prodigy of labour, wealth, and skill — the American 
railway system. Of its management, its finance, its commer- 
cial prospects, I do not attempt to speak. But railroads, and 
those who own and control them, occupy a place in the politi- 
cal and social life of the country which requires some passing 
words, for it is a place far more significant than similar enter- 
prises have obtained in the Old World. 

The United States are so much larger, and have a popula- 
tion so much more scattered than any European state that they 
depend even more upon means of internal communication. It 
is these communications that hold the country together, and 
render it one for all social and political purposes as well as for 
commerce. They may indeed be said to have made the West, 
for it is along the lines of railway that the West has been set- 
tled, and population still follows the rails, stretching out to 
south and north of the great trunk lines wherever they send 
off a branch. The Americans are an eminently locomotive 
people. Were statistics on such a point attainable, they would 
probably show that the average man travels over thrice as 
many miles by steam in a year as the average Englishman, six 
times as many as the average Frenchman or German. The 
Xew Yorker thinks of a journey to Chicago (900 miles) as a 
Londoner of a journey to Glasgow (400 miles) ; and a family 
at St. Louis will go for sea-bathing to Cape May, a journey of 
thirty-five or forty hours, as readily as a Birmingham family 
goes to Scarborough. The movements of goods traffic are on 
a gigantic scale. The greatest branch of heavy freight trans- 
portation in England, that of coal from the north and west to 
London, is not to be compared to the w r eight of cotton, grain, 

643 



644 SOCIAL INSTITUTIONS part vi 

bacon, cattle, fruit, and ores which comes from the inland 
regions to the Atlantic coast. This traffic does not merely 
give to the trunk lines an enormous yearly turnover, — it 
interests all classes, I might almost say all individuals, in 
railway operations, seeing that every branch of industry and 
every profession except divinity and medicine is more or less 
directly connected with the movements of commerce, and 
prospers in proportion to its prosperity. Consequently, rail- 
roads and their receipts, railroad directors and their doings, 
occupy men's tongues and pens to a far greater extent than in 
Europe. 

Some of the great railway companies possess yet another 
source of wealth and power. At the time when they were 
formed the enterprise of laying down rails in thinly-peopled, 
or perhaps quite uninhabited regions, in some instances over 
deserts or across lofty mountains, seemed likely to prove so 
unremunerative to the first shareholders, yet so beneficial to 
the country at large, that Congress was induced to encourage 
the promoters by vast grants of unoccupied land, the property 
of the United States, lying along the projected line. 1 The 
grants were often improvident, and they gave rise to endless 
lobbying and intrigue, first to secure them, then to keep them 
from being declared forfeited in respect of some breach of the 
conditions imposed by Congress on the company. However, 
the lines were made, colonists came, much of the lands has 
been sold, to speculators as well as to individual settlers ; but 
much long remained in the hands of two or three companies. 
These gifts made the railroads great landowners, gave them a 
local influence and divers local interests besides those arising 
from their proper business of carriers, and brought them into 
intimate and often perilously delicate relations with leading 
politicians. 

No wonder, then, that the railroads, even those that held no 
land beyond that on which their rails ran, acquired immense 

1 These grants usually consisted of alternate sections, in the earlier cases 
of five to the mile along the line. The total grant made to the Union Pacific 
Railway was 13,000,100 acres ;. to the Kansas Pacific, 6,000,000 ; to the Central 
Pacific, 12,100,100; to the Northern Pacific, 47,000,000; to the Atlantic and 
Pacific, 42,000,000; to the Southern Pacific, 9,520,000. Enormous money sub- 
sidies, exceeding $60,000,000, were also granted by Congress to the first trans- 
continental lines. 



cnAr. cm RAILROADS G4i 



power in the districts they traversed. In a new and thinly- 
peopled State the companies were by far the wealthiest bodies, 
and able by their wealth to exert all sorts of influence. A city 
or a district of country might depend entirely upon them for 
its progress. If they ran a line into it or through it, emigrants 
followed, the value of fixed property rose, trade became brisk : 
if they passed it by, and bestowed transportation facilities on 
some other district, it saw itself outstripped and began to 
languish. If a company owned a trunk line it could, by raising 
or lowering the rates of freight on that line through which the 
products of the district or State passed towards the sea, stimu- 
late or retard the prosperity of the agricultural population, or 
the miners, or the lumbermen. That is to say, the great com- 
panies held in their hands the fortunes of cities, of counties, 
even sometimes of States and Territories. 1 California was for 
many years practically at the mercy of the Central Pacific Kail- 
way, then her only road to the Mississippi Valley and the 
Atlantic. Oregon and Washington were almost equally de- 
pendent upon the Oregon Eailroad and Navigation Company, 
and afterwards upon the Northern Pacific. What made the 
position more singular was that, although these railroads had 
been built under statutes passed by the State they traversed 
(or, in the case of Territories, wholly or partially under Federal 
statutes), they were built with Eastern capital, and were owned 
by a number, often a small number, of rich men living in New 
York, Boston, or Philadelphia, unamenable to local influences, 
and caring no more about the wishes and feelings of the State 
whence their profits came than an English bondholder cares 
about the feelings of Chili. Moreover, although the railroads 
held a fuller sway in the newer States, they were sometimes 
potent political factors in the older ones. In 1870 I often 
heard men say, " Camden and Amboy (the Camden and Amboy 
Eailroad) rules New Jersey." In New York the great New 
York Central Eailroad, in Pennsylvania the Pennsylvania 
Eailroad under its able chief, exerted immense influence with 
the legislature, partly by their wealth, partly by the oppor- 

1 This was of course especially the case with the newer Western States ; yet 
even in the older parts of the country any very large railway system had great 
power, for it might have a monopoly of communication ; or if there were two 
lines they might have agreed to "pool," as it i8 called, their traffic receipts 
and work in harmony. 



646 SOCIAL INSTITUTIONS part vi 

tunities of bestowing' favours on individuals and localities 
which they possessed, including the gift of free passes and 
possibly influence exercised on the votes of their emplo} r es. 
Sometimes, at least in Pennsylvania and New York, they even 
threw their weight into the scale of a political party, giving 
it money as well as votes. But more commonly they have 
confined themselves to securing their own interests, and 
obliged, or threatened and used, the State leaders of both 
parties alike for that purpose. The same sort of power was 
at one time exerted over some of the cantons of Switzerland 
by the greater Swiss railway companies ; though, since the 
Constitution of 1874, it is said to have quite disappeared. 1 

In such circumstances conflicts between the railroads and 
the State governments were inevitable. The companies might 
succeed in "capturing" individual legislators or committees 
of either or both Houses, but they could not silence the dis- 
contented cities or counties who complained of the way in 
which they were neglected while some other city obtained 
better facilities, still less the farmers who denounced the un- 
duly high rates they were forced to pay for the carriage of 
their produce. Thus a duel began between the companies and 
the peoples of some of the States, which has gone on with 
varying fortune in the halls of the legislatures and in the 
courts of law. The farmers of the North-west formed agricul- 
tural associations called " Patrons of Husbandry," or popularly 
" Granges," and passed a number of laws imposing various 
restrictions on the railroads, and providing for the fixing 
of a maximum scale of charges. But although the railroad 
companies had been formed under, and derived their powers 
of taking land and making by-laws from, State statutes, 
these statutes had in some cases omitted to reserve the 
right to deal freely with the lines by subsequent legisla- 
tion ; and the companies therefore attempted to resist the 
" Granger laws " as being unconstitutional. They were defeated 
by two famous decisions of the Supreme Federal court in 
1876, 2 establishing the right of a State to impose restrictions 
on public undertakings in the nature of monopolies. But in 

1 The Swiss railways are now under the control of the Federal Government. 

2 See Munn v. Illinois, and Peake v. Chicago, Burlington, and Qulncy 
Railroad, ( J-i U. S. Reports. 



CHAP, cm RAILROADS 647 

other directions they had better luck. The Granger Laws 

proved in many respects unworkable. The companies, alleg- 
ing that they could not carry goods at a loss, vexed the people 
by refusing to construct branches and other new lines, and in 
various ways contrived to make the laws difficult of execution. 
Thus they procured (in most States) the repeal of the first set 
of Granger laws ; and when further legislation was projected, 
secret engines of influence were made to play upon the legisla- 
tures, influences which, since the first wave of popular impulse 
had now spent itself, often proved efficacious in averting 
further restrictions or impeding the enforcement of those 
imposed. Those who profited most by the strife were the less 
scrupulous among the legislators, who, if they did not receive 
some favour from a railroad, could levy blackmail upon it by 
bringing in a threatening bill. 1 

The contest, however, was not confined to the several States. 
It passed to Congress. Congress has no authority under the 
Constitution to deal with a railway lying entirely within one 
State, but is held entitled to legislate, under its power of regu- 
lating commerce between different States, for all lines (includ- 
ing connecting lines which are worked together as a through 
line) which traverse more than one State. And of course it 
has always had power over railways situate in the Territories. 
As the Federal courts decided a few years ago that no State 
could legislate against a railway lying partly outside its own 
limits, because this would trench on Federal competence, the 
need for Federal legislation, long pressed upon Congress, 
became urgent; and after much debate an Act was passed in 
1887 establishing an Inter-State Commerce Commission, with 
power to regulate railroad transportation and charges in many 
material respects. The companies had opposed it ; but after 
its passage they discovered that it hurt them less than they 
had feared, and in some points even benefited them ; for having 
prohibited all discriminations and secret rebates, and required 
them to adhere to their published list of charges, it has given 
them a ready answer to demands for exceptional privileges. 2 

1 A few years ago the legislature of Iowa passed a statute giving the State 
Railway Commission full powers to fix charges ; and injunctions were obtained 
from the Courts restraining the Commission from imposing, as they were 
proceeding to do, rates so low as to he destructive of reasonable profits. 

- It also attempted, though as yet with incomplete success, to put an end to 



648 SOCIAL INSTITUTIONS part vi 

The time has hardly yet come for estimating the results of 
this momentous statute, but it cannot be pronounced a success, 
for it has given rise to a swarm of difficult legal questions, 
and while hampering the railroads has scarcely lessened the 
complaints of the farming and commercial classes. That the 
railroads had exercised autocratic and irresponsible power 
over some regions of the country, and had occasionally abused 
this power, especially by imposing discriminations in their 
freight charges, is not to be denied. 1 They had become ex- 
tremely unpopular, a constant theme for demagogic denuncia- 
tions ; and their success during some years in resisting public 
clamour by their secret control of legislatures, or even of the 
State commissioners appointed to deal with them, increased 
the irritation. All corporations are at present unpopular in 
America, and especially corporations possessed of monopolies. 
The agitation will apparently continue, though the confidence 
felt in the honesty of the Commission has done something to 
allay it, and attempts be made to carry still more stringent 
legislation. There is even a section of opinion which desires 
to see all railways, as well as telegraphs, in the hands of 
the nation, and that not merely for revenue purposes, but 
to make them serve more perfectly the public convenience. 
The objection which to most men seems decisive against 
any such arrangement is that it would not only encumber 
government with most difficult rate-problems, affecting local 
interests, and therefore involving the certainty of local politi- 
cal pressure, but would also throw a stupendous mass of 
patronage and power into the hands of the party for the 
time being holding office. Considering what a perennial 
spring of bitterness partisan patronage has been, and how 
liable to perversion under the best regulations patronage 
must always be, he would be a bold man who would toss 
an immense number of places, — the railroads employ nearly 
900,000 persons, — many of them important and highly paid, 
into the lap of a party minister. Economic gain, assuming 

the bestowal of free passes for passengers, a form of preference which had 
assumed large proportions. 

1 It would appear that the freight charges on American railways were, 
before 1887, generally lower than those in England and in Western Europe 
generally. English third class passenger fares are slightly lower than those 
in the ordinary American cars. 



chap, cm KAILROADS 649 

that such gain could be secured, would be dearly bought by 
political danger. 

Their strife with the State governments has not been enough 
to occupy the pugnacity of the companies. They must needs 
fight with one another; and their wars have been long and. 
fierce, involving immense pecuniary interests, not only to the 
shareholders in the combatant lines, but also to the inhabitants 
of the districts which they served. Such conflicts have been 
most frequent between the trunk lines competing for the car- 
riage of goods from the West to the Atlantic cities, and have 
been conducted, not only by lowering charges so as to starve 
out the weaker line, 1 but by attacks upon its stocks in the 
great share markets, by efforts to defeat its bills in the State 
legislatures, and by law-suits with applications for injunctions 
in the courts. Sometimes, as in the famous case of the struggle 
of the Atchison Topeka and Santa Fe railway with the Denver 
and Kio Grande for the possession of the great canon of the 
Arkansas Eiver, 2 the easiest route into an important group of 
Rocky Mountain valleys, the navvies of the two companies 
fought with shovels and pickaxes on the spot, while their 
counsel were fighting in the law courts sixteen hundred miles 
away. A well-established company has sometimes to appre- 
hend a peculiarly annoying form of attack at the hands of 
audacious adventurers, who construct a competing line where 
the traffic is only sufficient to enable the existing one to pay 
a dividend on the capital it has expended, aiming, not at the 
creation of a profitable undertaking, but • at levying blackmail 
on one which exists, and obtaining an opportunity of manipu- 
lating bonds and stocks for their own benefit. In such a case 
the railway company in possession has its choice between two 
courses : it may allow the new enterprise to go on, then lower 
its own rates, and so destroy all possibility of profits ; or it 
may buy up the rival line, perhaps at a heavy price. Some- 
times it tries the first course long enough to beat down the 

1 In one of these contests, one railway having lowered its rates for cattle 
to a figure helow paying point, the manager of the other promptly bought up 
all the cattle he could find at the inland terminus, and sent them to the coast 
by the enemy's line, a costly lesson to the latter. 

2 This so-called " Royal Gorge " of the Arkansas is one of the most striking 
pieces of scenery on the North American continent, not unlike the grandest 
part of the famous Dariel Pass in the Caucasus. 



650 SOCIAL INSTITUTIONS part vi 

already small prospects of the new line and then buys it ; but 
although this may ruin the " pirates " (as they are commonly 
called) who have built the new line, it involves a hideous waste 
of the money spent in construction, and the shareholders of the 
old company as well as the bondholders of the new one suffer. 
This is a form of raid upon property which evidently ought to 
be prevented by a greater care on the part of State legislatures 
in refusing to pass special Acts for unnecessary railroads, or in 
so modifying their law as to prevent a group of promoters from 
using, for purposes of blackmail, the powers of taking land and 
constructing railroads, which general statutes confer. 

This atmosphere of strife has had something to do with the 
feature of railway management which a European finds most 
remarkable ; I mean its autocratic character. Nearly all the 
great lines are controlled and managed either by a small knot of 
persons or by a single man. Sometimes one man, or a knot of 
three or four capitalists acting as one man, holds an actual major- 
ity of the shares, and then he can of course do exactly what he 
pleases. Sometimes the interest of the ruling man (or knot) 
comes so near to being a controlling interest that he may safely 
assume that no majority can be brought against him, the ten- 
dencies of many shareholders being to support "the administra- 
tion " in all its policy. This accumulation of voting power in 
a few hands seems to be due partly to the fact that the shares 
of new lines do not, in the first instance, get scattered through 
the general public as in England, but are commonly allotted 
in masses to a few persons, aften as a sort of bonus upon their 
subscribing for the bonds of the company. 1 In the United 

1 "It is an extraordinary fact.'' says Mr. Hitchcock, " that the power of 
eminent domain which the State itself confessedly ought never to use save on 
grounds of public necessity should be at the command of irresponsible individ- 
uals for purposes of private gain, not only without any guarantee that the 
public interest will be promoted thereby, but when it is perfectly well known 
that it may be, and has been, deliberately availed of for merely speculative 
purposes. The facility with which, under loosely drawn railroad laws, purely 
speculative railroad charters can be obtained has contributed not a little to 
develop the law of receiverships. In Missouri there is nothing to prevent any 
five men whose combined capital would not enable them to build five miles 
of track on a level prairie from forming a railroad corporation with power to 
construct a road five hundred miles long, and to condemn private property for 
that purpose, for a line whose construction no public interest demands, and from 
which no experienced man could expect dividends to accrue." — Address to 
the American Bar Association, 1887. 



chap, cm RAILROADS G51 

►States shares do not usually represent a cash subscription, the 
practice being bo construct a railway with the proceeds of the 
bonds and to regard the sin res as the materials for future 
profit, things which may. if the line be of a speculative charac- 
ter, be run up in price and sold off by the promoters ; or, if it 
be likely to prosper, be held by them for the purpose of con- 
trolling as well as gaining profits from the undertaking. 1 It 
is partly also to be ascribed to the splendid boldness with 
which financial operations are conducted in America, where 
the leaders of Wall Street do not hesitate to buy up enormous 
masses of shares of stock for the purpose of some coup. Hav- 
ing once got into a single hand, or a few hands, these stock 
masses stay there, and give their possessors the control of the 
line. But the power of the railways, and the position they 
hold towards local governments, State legislatures, and one 
another, have also a great deal to do with the phenomenon. 
War is the natural state of an American railway towards all 
other authorities and its own fellows, just as war was the 
natural state of cities towards one another in the ancient 
world. And as an army in the field must be commanded by 
one general, so must this latest militant product of an emi- 
nently peaceful civilization. The president of a great railroad 
needs gifts for strategical combinations scarcely inferior to 
those, if not of a great general, yet of a great war minister — 
a Chatham or a Carnot. If his line extends into a new coun- 
try, he must be quick to seize the best routes, — the best 
physically, because they will be cheaper to operate, the best 
in agricultural or mineral resources, because they will offer a 
greater prospect of traffic. He must so throw out his branches 
as not only to occupy promising tracts, but keep his competing 
enemies at a distance ; he must annex small lines when he 
sees a good chance, first " bearing " their stocks so as to get them 

1 The great Central Pacific Railway was constructed by four men, two of 
whom were when they began storekeepers in a small way in San Francisco, 
and none of whom could be called capitalists. Their united funds when they 
began in 1860 were only $120,000 (£24,000). They went on issuing bonds anil 
building the line bit by bit as the bonds put them in funds, retaining the con- 
trol of the company through the shares. This Central Pacific Company ulti- 
mately built the Southern Pacific and numerous branches, and became by far 
>atest power in the West, owning nearly all the railways in California 
and Nevada When one of the four died in 1878, his estate was worth 
! ..000,000). 



652 SOCIAL INSTITUTIONS part vi 

cheaper ; he must make a close alliance with at least one other 
great line, which completes his communications with the East 
or with the farther West, and be prepared to join this ally in 
a conflict with some threatening competitor. He must know 
the Governors and watch the legislatures of the States or 
Territories though which his line runs ; must have adroit 
agents at the State capitals, well supplied with the sinews of 
war, ready to " see " leading legislators and to defeat any leg- 
islative attacks that may be made by blackmailers or the tools 
of rival presidents. And all the while he must not only keep 
his eye upon the markets of New York, prepared for the on- 
slaught which may be made upon his own stock by some other 
railroad or by speculators desiring to make a profit as "bears," 
and maintaining friendly relations with the capitalists whose 
help he will need when he brings out a new loan, but must 
supervise the whole administrative system of the railroad — 
its stations, permanent way, locomotives, rolling stock, engi- 
neering shops, freight and passenger rates, perhaps also the 
sale of its land grants and their defence against the cabals of 
Washington. No talents of the practical order can be too 
high for such a position as this ; and even the highest talents 
would fail to fill it properly except with a free hand. Concen- 
tration of power and an almost uncontrolled discretion are 
needed ; and in America whatever commercial success needs 
is sure to be yielded. Hence, when a group of capitalists own 
a railway, they commit its management to a very small com- 
mittee among themselves, or even to a single man ; and when 
the shares are more widely distributed, the shareholders, recog- 
nizing the necessary conditions of prosperity, not to say of 
survival in the struggle for existence, leave themselves in the 
hands of the president, who has little to fear except from the 
shares being quietly bought up by some syndicate of enemies 
seeking to dethrone him. 

Of these great railway chieftains, some come to the top 
gradually, by the display in subordinate posts of brilliant 
administrative gifts. Some begin as financiers, and spring 
into the presidential saddle at a bound by forming a com- 
bination which captures the railway by buying up its stock. 
Occasionally a great capitalist will seize a railroad only for 
the sake of manipulating its stock, clearing a profit, and 



OHAF. Oiu KAILROADS 653 

throwing- it away. But more frequently, when a really 
important line has passed into the hands of a man or group, 
it is held fast and developed into a higher efficiency by means 
of the capital he or they command. 

These railway kings are among the greatest men, perhaps I 
may say are the greatest men, in America. They have wealth, 
else they could not hold the position. They have fame, for 
every one has heard of their achievements ; every newspaper 
chronicles their movements. They have power, more power — 
that is, more opportunity of making their personal will prevail 
— than perhaps any one in political life, except the President 
and the Speaker, who after all hold theirs only for four years 
and two years, while the railroad monarch may keep his for 
life. When the master of one of the greatest Western lines 
travels towards the Pacific on his palace car, his journey is 
like a royal progress. Governors of States and Territories 
bow before him ; legislatures receive him in solemn session ; 
cities seek to propitiate him, for has he not the means of 
making or marring a city's fortunes ? Although the railroad 
companies are unpopular, and although this autocratic sway 
from a distance contributes to their unpopularity, I do not 
think that the ruling magnates are themselves generally dis- 
liked. On the contrary, they receive that tribute of admiration 
which the American gladly pays to whoever has done best 
what every one desires to do. Probably no caree^draws to it 
or unfolds and develops so much of the characteristic ability 
of the nation ; and I doubt whether any congressional legis- 
lation will greatly reduce the commanding positions which 
these potentates hold as the masters of enterprises whose 
wealth, geographical extension, and influence upon the growth 
of the country and the fortunes of individuals, find no parallel 
in the Old World. 

It may be thought that some of the phenomena I have 
described belong to an era of colonization, and that when the 
West has been filled up, and all the arterial railways made, 
when, in fact, the United States have become even as England 
or France, the power of railroads and their presidents will 
decline. No doubt there will be less room for certain bold 
ventures and feats of constructive strategy; and as the net- 
work of railways grows closer, States and districts may come 



654 SOCIAL INSTITUTIONS part vi 

to depend less upon one particular company. At the same 
time it must be remembered that the more populous and 
wealthy the country, so much the larger the business of a 
trunk line, and the number of its branches and its employes ; 
while the consolidation of small lines, or their absorption by 
large ones, is a process evidently destined to continue. It may 
therefore be conjectured that the railroad will long stand 
forth as a great and perplexing force in the economico-political 
life of the United States. It cannot be left to itself — the 
most extreme advocate of laissez faire would not contend for 
that, for to leave it to itself would be to make it a tyrant. 
It cannot be absorbed and worked by the ]STational govern- 
ment ; — only the most sanguine state socialist would propose 
to impose so terrible a strain on the virtue of American 
politicians, and so seriously to disturb the constitutional 
balance between the States and the Federal authority. Many 
experiments may be needed before the true mean course 
between these extremes is discovered. Meanwhile, the rail- 
roads illustrate two tendencies specially conspicuous in 
America, — the power of the principle of association, which 
makes commercial corporations, skilfully handled, formidable 
to individual men ; and the way in which the principle of 
monarchy, banished from the field of government, creeps back 
again and asserts its strength in the scarcely less momentous 
contests of industry and finance. 



CHAPTER CIV 

WALL STREET 

No invention of modern times, not even that of negotiable 
paper, has so changed the face of commerce and delighted law- 
yers with a variety of new and intricate problems as the creation 
of incorporated joint-stock companies. America, though she 
came latest into the field, has developed these on a grander 
scale and with a more refined skill than the countries of the 
Old World. Nowhere do trading corporations play so great a 
part in trade and industry ; nowhere are so many huge under- 
takings in their hands ; nowhere else has the method of con- 
trolling them become a political problem of the first magnitude. 
So vigorous, indeed, is the inventive genius of American com- 
merce that, not satisfied with the new applications it has found 
for the principles of the joint-stock corporation, it has lately 
attempted a further development of the arts of combination 
by creating those anomalous giants called Trusts, groups of 
individuals and corporations concerned in one branch of trade 
or manufacture, which are placed under the irresponsible man- 
agement of a small knot of persons, who, through their com- 
mand of all the main producing or distributing agencies, 
intend and expect to dominate the market, force manufac- 
turers or dealers to submit, and hold the consumer at their 
mercy. 1 

Here, however, I am concerned with the amazing expansion 
of joint-stock companies in America, only as the cause of the 
not less amazing activity in buying and selling shares which 
the people display. This is almost the first thing that strikes 
a European visitor, and the longer he remains the more deeply 

1 The question what is the legal status (if any) of these Trusts, the first of 
which was created in 1869, has heen much discussed hy American jurists. 
When Congress legislated against them in 1890 there existed at least thirty. 



656 SOCIAL INSTITUTIONS part vi 

is he impressed by it as something to which his own country, 
be it England, France, or Germany, furnishes no parallel. In 
Europe, speculation in bonds, shares, and stocks is confined to 
a section of the commercial world, with a few stragglers from 
other walks of business, or from the professions, who flutter 
near the flame and burn their wings. Ordinary steady-going 
people, even people in business, know little or nothing about 
the matter, and seldom think of reading the share lists. When 
they have savings to invest they do as they are bidden by 
their banker or stockbroker, if indeed they have a stockbroker, 
and do not get their banker to engage one. 1 In the United 
States a much larger part of the population, including profes- 
sional men as well as business men, seem conversant with the 
subject, and there are times when the whole community, not 
merely city people but also storekeepers in country towns, even 
farmers, even domestic servants, interest themselves actively in 
share speculations. At such times they watch the fluctuations 
of price in the stocks of the great railroads, telegraph compa- 
nies (or rather the Telegraph Company, since one overshadows 
all others) , and other leading undertakings ; they discuss the 
prospects of a rise or fall, and the probable policy of the great 
operators ; they buy and sell bonds or stocks on a scale not 
always commensurate with their own means. 2 In the great 
cities the number of persons exclusively devoted to this occu- 
pation is very large, and naturally so, because, while the 
undertakings lie all over a vast extent of country, the capital 
which owns them is mostly situate in the cities, and, indeed, 
six-sevenths of it (so far as it is held in America) in four or 
five of the greatest Eastern cities. It is chiefly in railroads 
that these Easterns speculate. But in the Far West mines 
are an even more exciting and pervasive interest. In San 
Francisco every one gambles in mining stocks, even the nurse- 
maids and the Chinese. The share lists showing the oscilla- 

1 There are, of course, simple folk in England who take shares on the faith 
of prospectuses of new companies sent to them ; hut the fact that it pays to 
send such prospectuses is the hest proof of the general ignorance, in such 
matters, of laymen (including the clergy) and women in that country. 

2 In many country towns there are small offices, commonly called " bucket 
shops," to which farmers and tradesmen resort to effect their purchases and 
sales in the great stock markets of New York. Not a few ruin themselves. 
Some States have endeavoured to extinguish them by penal legislation. 



chap. Oil WALL STREET 657 

tious of prices are hung up outside the newspaper offices, and 
fixed on posts in the streets, and are changed every hour or 
two during- the da v. In the silver districts of Colorado and 
Xew Mexico, the sunn 1 kind of thing goes on. 1 It is naturally 
in such spots that the fire burns hottest. But go where you 
will in the Union, except, to be sure, in the more stagnant and 
impecunious parts of the South, you feel bonds, stocks, and 
shares in the atmosphere all round you. Te veniente die — 
they begin the day with the newspaper at breakfast : they end 
it with the chat over the nocturnal cigar. 2 

This eager interest centres itself in Xew York, for finance, 
more perhaps than any other kind of business, draws to few 
points, and Xew York, which has as little claim to be the social 
or intellectual as to be the political capital of the country, is 
emphatically its financial capital. And as the centre of 
America is Xew York, so the centre of Xew York is Wall 
Street. This famous thoroughfare is hardly a quarter of a 
mile long, a little longer than Lombard Street in London. It 
contains the Sub-Treasury of the United States and the Stock 
Exchange. In it and the three or four streets that open into 
it are situated the Produce Exchange, the offices of the great 
railways, and the places of business of the financiers and 
stockbrokers, together representing an accumulation of capital 
and intellect comparable to the capital and intellect of London, 
and destined before many years to surpass every similar spot 
in either hemisphere. 3 Wall Street is the great nerve centre of 
all American business ; for finance and transportation, the two 
determining powers in business, have here their headquarters. 
It is also the financial barometer of the country, which every 
man engaged in large affairs must constantly consult, and 

1 In a mining town in Colorado the landlady of an inn in which I stayed for 
a night pressed me to bring out in London a company to work a mining claim 
which she had acquired, offering me what is called an option. I inquired how 
much money it would take to begin to work the claim and get out the ore. 
"Less than thirty thousand dollars " (£0000). (The carbonates are in that 
part of Colorado very near the surface.) " And what is to be the capital of 
your company? " " Five millions of dollars " (£1,000,000) ! 

- Of course I am speaking of the man you meet in travelling, who is a 
sample of the ordinary citizen. In polite society one's entertainer would no 
more bring up such a subject, unless you drew him on to do so, than he would 
think of talking politic-. 

8 The balances settled in the New York Clearing House each day are two- 
thirds of all the clearings in ih<- United States. 

vor.. n 2 u 



658 SOCIAL INSTITUTIONS part vi 

whose only fault is that it is too sensitive to slight and tran- 
sient variations of pressure. 

The share market of New York, or rather of the whole 
Union, in " the Street," as it is fondly named, is the most 
remarkable sight in the country after Niagara and the Yellow- 
stone Geysers. It is not unlike those geysers in the violence 
of its explosions, and in the rapid rise and equally rapid sub- 
sidence of its active paroxysms. And as the sparkling column 
of the geyser is girt about and often half concealed by vol- 
umes of steam, so are the rise and fall of stocks mostly sur- 
rounded by mists and clouds of rumour, some purposely 
created, some self-generated in the atmosphere of excitement, 
curiosity, credulity, and suspicion which the denizens of Wall 
Street breathe. Opinions change from moment to moment; 
hope and fear are equally vehement and equally irrational ; 
men are constant only in inconstancy, superstitious because 
they are sceptical, distrustful of patent probabilities, and 
therefore ready to trust their own fancies or some unfathered 
tale. As the eagerness and passion of New York leave Euro- 
pean stock markets far behind, for what the Paris and London 
exchanges are at rare moments Wall Street is for weeks, or 
perhaps, with a few intermissions, for months together, so the 
operations of Wall Street are vaster, more boldly conceived, 
executed with a steadier precision, than those of European 
speculators. It is not only their bearing on the prosperity of 
railroads or other great undertakings that is eagerly watched 
all over the country, but also their personal and dramatic 
aspects. The various careers and characters of the leading 
operators are familiar to every one who reads a newspaper; 
his schemes and exploits are followed as Europe followed 
the fortunes of Prince Alexander of Battenberg or General 
Boulanger. A great " corner," for instance, is one of the 
exciting events of the year, not merely to those concerned 
with the stock or species of produce in which it is attempted, 
but to the public at large. 

How far is this state of things transitory, due to temporary 
causes arising out of the swift material development of the 
United States ? During the Civil War the creation of a paper 
currency, which rapidly depreciated, produced a wild specula- 
tion in gold, lasting for several years, whose slightest fluctua- 



vnxv. civ WALL STREET 050 

tions were followed with keen interest, because in indicating 
the value of the papei currency they indicated the credit of 
the nation, and the view taken by the financial community of 
the prospects of the war. The re-establishment of peace 
brought with it a burst of industrial activity, specially directed 
to the making of new railroads and general opening up of the 
West. Thus the eyes that had been accustomed to watch 
Wall Street did not cease to watch it, for these new enter- 
prises involved many fortunes, had drawn much capital from 
small investors, and were really of great consequence — the 
transcontinental railways most of all — to the welfare of the 
country. It is some time since the work of railway construc- 
tion began to slacken, as it slackened in England a generation 
ago, although from time to time there is a revival. Mines 
are less profitable since the great fall in silver; the price of 
United States bonds fluctuates hardly (if at all) more than 
consols do in England. Times of commercial depression are 
comparatively quiet, yet even when transactions are fewer, the 
interest of the public in the stock markets does not greatly 
diminish. Trade and manufactures cover the whole horizon of 
American life far more than they do anywhere in Europe. 
They — I include agriculture, because it has been, in America, 
commercialized, and become really a branch of trade — are the 
main concern of the country, to which all others are subordi- 
nate. So large a part of the whole capital employed is in the 
hands of joint-stock companies, 1 so easy a method do these 
companies furnish by which the smallest investor may take 
part in commercial ventures and increase his pile, so general 
is the diffusion of information (of course often incorrect) 
regarding their state and prospects, so vehement and per- 
vading is the passion for wealth, so seductive are the examples 
of a few men who have realized stupendous fortunes by clever 
or merely lucky hits when there came a sharp rise or fall in 
the stock market, so vast, and therefore so impressive to the 

1 The wealth of corporations has been estimated by high authorities at one- 
fourth of the total value of all property in the United States. I find that in 
the State of Illinois alone (population in 1890, 3,818,000) there were formed 
during the year 188(5, under the general law, 1714 incorporated companies, 
with an aggregate capital stock (authorized) of #810,101,110. Of these, 632 
were manufacturing companies, 101 mining companies, 41 railroad compa- 
nies. 



660 SOCIAL INSTITUTIONS part vi 

imagination, is the scale on which these oscillations take place, 1 
that the universal attention given to stocks and shares, and the 
tendency to speculation among the non-financial classes which 
reveals itself from time to time, seem amply accounted for by 
permanent causes, and therefore likely to prove normal. Even 
admitting that neither such stimulations as were present during 
the war period nor those that belonged to the era of inflated 
prosperity which followed are likely to recur, it must be 
observed that habits formed under transitory conditions do 
not always pass away with those conditions, but may become 
a permanent and, so to speak, hereditary element in national 
life. 

So far as politics are concerned, I do not know that Wall 
Street does any harm. There is hardly any speculation in 
foreign securities, because capital finds ample employment in 
domestic undertakings ; and the United States are so little likely 
to be involved in foreign complications that neither the action 
of European powers nor that of the Federal government bears 
directly enough upon the stock markets to bring politics into 
stocks or stocks into politics. 2 Hence one source of evil which 
poisons public life in Europe, and is believed to have proved 
specially pernicious in France — the influence of financial specu- 
lators or holders of foreign bonds upon the foreign policy of 
a government — is wholly absent. An American Secretary of 
State, supposing him base enough to use his official knowledge 
for stock-jobbing operations, would have little advantage over 
the meanest broker in Wall Street. 3 Even as regards domes- 
tic politics, the division of power between Congress and the 
State legislatures reduces the power of the former over indus- 
trial undertakings, and leaves comparatively few occasions on 

1 The great rebound of trade in 1879-83 trebled within those years the value 
of many railroad bonds and stocks, and raised at a still more rapid rate the 
value of lands in many parts of the West. 

2 Of course the prospects of war or peace in Europe do sensibly affect the 
American produce markets, and therefore the railroads, and indeed all great 
commercial undertakings. But these prospects are as much outside the prov- 
ince of the American statesman as the drought which affects the coming crop 
or the blizzard that stops the earnings of a railway. 

3 The Secretary of the Treasury, by his control of the public debt, has no 
doubt means of affecting the markets : but I have never heard any charge of 
improper conduct in such matters on the part of any one connected with the 
Treasury Department. 



chap, civ WALL STREET GG1 

which the action of the Federal government tends to affect the 
market for most kinds of stocks, though of course changes in 
the public debt and in the currency affect by sympathy every 
part of the machinery of commerce. The shares of railroad 
companies owning land grants were, and to some slight extent 
still are, depressed and raised by the greater or slighter pros- 
pects of legislative interference ; but it may be expected that 
this point of contact between speculators and politicians, 
which, like the meeting-point of currents in the sea, is marked 
by a good deal of rough and turbid water, will soon cease to 
exist, as the remaining railroad lands get sold or are declared 
forfeited. 

The more serious question remains : How does Wall Street 
tell on the character of the people ? They are naturally inclined 
to be speculative. The pursuit of wealth, is nowhere so eager 
as in America, the opportunities for acquiring it are nowhere 
so numerous. Nowhere is one equally impressed by the 
progress which the science and arts of gain — I do not mean 
the arts that add to the world's wealth, but those by which 
individuals appropriate an exceptionally large share of it — 
make from year to year. The materials with which the 
investor or the speculator has to work may receive no sensible 
addition; but the constant application of thousands of keen 
intellects, spurred by sharp desire, evolves new combinations 
out of these old materials, devises new methods and contriv- 
ances apt for a bold and skilful hand, just as electricians go on 
perfecting the machinery of the telegraph, just as the accumu- 
lated labours of scholars present us with always more trust- 
worthy texts of the classical writers and more precise rules of 
Greek and Latin syntax. Under these new methods of busi- 
ness, speculation, though it seems to become more of a science, 
does not become less speculative. People seem to buy and 
sell on even slighter indications than in Paris or London. The 
processes of " bulling " and " bearing " are more constant and 
more skilfully applied. The whole theory and practice of 
" margins " has been more completely worked out. However, 
it is of less consequence for our present purpose to dwell on 
the proficiency of the professional operator than to note the 
prevalence of the habit of speculation : it is not intensity so 
much as extension that affects an estimate of the people at large. 



662 SOCIAL INSTITUTIONS part v 

Except in New York, and perhaps in Chicago, which is more 
and more coming to reproduce and surpass the characteristics 
of New York, Americans bet less upon horse-races than the 
English do. Horse-races are, indeed, far less common, though 
there is a good deal of fuss made about trotting-matches. 
However, much money changes hands, especially in Eastern 
cities, over yacht-races, and plenty everywhere over elections. 1 
The purchase and sale of "produce futures," i.e. of cotton, 
wheat, maize, bacon, lard, and other staples not yet in exist- 
ence but to be delivered at some distant day, has reached 
an enormous development. 2 There is, even in the Eastern 
cities, where the value of land might be thought to have be- 
come stable, a real estate market in which land and houses are 
dealt in as matter for pure speculation, with no intention of 
holding except for a rise within the next few hours or days ; 
while in the new West the price of lands, especially near 
cities, undergoes fluctuations greater than those of the most 
unstable stocks in the London market. It can hardly be 
doubted that the pre-existing tendency to encounter risks and 
"back one's opinion," inborn in the Americans, and fostered 
by the circumstances of their country, is further stimulated by 
the existence of so vast a number of joint-stock enterprises, 
and by the facilities they offer to the smallest capitalists. 
Similar facilities exist in the Old World; but few of the 
inhabitants of the Old World have yet learned how to use and 
abuse them. The Americans, quick at everything, have learned 
long ago. The habit of speculation is now a part of their 
character, and it increases that constitutional excitability and 
high nervous tension of which they are proud. 

Some may think that when the country fills up and settles 
down, and finds itself altogether under conditions more nearly 
resembling those of the Old World, these peculiarities will 
fade away. I doubt it. They seem to have already passed 
into the national fibre. 

1 The mischief has been thought sufficient to be specially checked by the 
constitutions or statutes of some States. 

2 It is stated that the Cotton Exchange sells in each year five times the 
value of the cotton crop, and that in 1887 the Petroleum Exchange sold fifty 
times the amount of that year's yield. 

I have referred in a note to a preceding chapter to some recent attempts to 
check by legislation this form of speculation (p. 542, ante). 



CHAPTER CV 

THE UNIVERSITIES 

Among the universities of America there is none which has 
sprung up of itself like Bologna or Paris or El Azhar or Oxford, 
none founded by an Emperor like Prague, or by a Pope like 
Glasgow. All have been the creatures of private munificence 
or denominational zeal or State action. Their history is short 
indeed compared with that of the universities of Europe. Yet 
it is full of interest, for it shows a steady growth, it records 
many experiments, it gives valuable data for comparing the 
educational results of diverse systems. 

When the first English colonists went to America, the large 
and liberal mediaeval conception of a university, as a place 
where graduates might teach freely and students live freely, 
was waxing feeble in Oxford and Cambridge. The instruction 
was given chiefly by the colleges, which had already become, 
what they long continued, organisms so strong as collectively 
to eclipse the university they had been meant to aid. Accord- 
ingly when places of superior instruction began to grow up in 
the colonies, it was on the model not of an English university 
but of an English college that they were created. The glory 
of founding the first place of learning in the English, parts of 
America belongs to a Puritan minister and graduate of Cam- 
bridge, John Harvard of Emmanuel College, 1 who, dying in 
1638, eighteen years after the landing of the Pilgrim Fathers, 
gave half his property for the establishment of a college in 
the town of Cambridge, three miles from Boston, which, origi- 
nally organized on the plan of Emmanuel College, and at once 

1 Emmanuel was a college then much frequented by the Puritans. Of the 
English graduates who emigrated to New England between 1620 and 1647, 
nearly one hundred in number, three-fourths came from the University of 
Cambridge. 

ool; 



664 SOCIAL INSTITUTIONS part vi 

taken under the protection of the infant commonwealth of 
Massachusetts, has now grown into the most famous university 
on the North American continent. 1 

The second foundation was due to the Colonial Assembly of 
Virginia. So early as 1619, twelve years after the first settle- 
ment at Jamestown, the Virginia Company in England voted 
ten thousand acres of land in the colony for the establishment 
of a seminary of learning, and a site was in 1624 actually set 
apart, on an island in the Susquehanna Eiver, for the " Found- 
inge and Maintenance of a University and such schools in Vir- 
ginia as shall there be erected, and shall be called Academia 
Virginiensis et Oxoniensis." This scheme was never carried 
out. But in 1693 the Virginians obtained a grant of land and 
money from the home government for the erection of a college, 
which received the name of the College of William and Mary. 2 
The third foundation was Yale College, established in Connec- 
ticut (first at Saybrook, then at New Haven) in 1700; the 
fourth Princeton, in New Jersey, in 1746. None of these 
received the title of university : Harvard is called a " school 
or colledge " : Yale used the name " collegiate school " for sev- 
enteen years. " We on purpose gave your academy as low a 
name as we could that it might the better stand the wind and 
weather" was the reason assigned. Other academies or col- 

1 In 1636 the General Court of the colony of Massachusetts Bay agreed " to 
give Four Hundred Pounds towards a school or college, whereof Two Hundred 
Pounds shall he paid the next year, and Two Hundred Pounds when the work 
is finished, and the next Court to appoint where and what building." In 1637 
the General Court appointed a Commission of twelve " to take order for a col- 
lege at Newtown." The name Newtown was presently changed to Cambridge. 
John Harvard's bequest being worth more than twice the £400 voted, the name 
of Harvard College was given to the institution ; and in 1642 a statute was 
passed for the ordering of the same. 

2 The Virginians had worked at this project for more than thirty years 
before they got their charter and grant. "When William and Mary had 
agreed to allow £2000 out of the quit rents of Virginia towards building the 
college, the Bev. Mr. Blair went to Seymour, the attorney-general, with the 
royal command to issue a charter. Seymour demurred. The country was 
then engaged in war, and could ill afford to plant a college in Virginia. Mr. 
Blair urged that the institution was to prepare young men to become ministers 
of the gospel. Virginians, he said, had souls to be saved as well as their 
English countrymen. 'Souls!' said Seymour. 'Damn your souls! Make 
tobacco! ' " — The College of William and Mary, by Dr. H. B. Adams. This 
oldest of Southern colleges was destroyed in the Civil War [1862] (it has 
recently received a national grant of 864,000 as compensation), but was 
restored, and has been re-endowed by the legislature of Virginia in 1888. 



run UNIVERSITIES 066 



m New England and bhe Middle States followed: sunk 
as that which is now the University of lYnns\ lvania, in L749; 
King's, now Columbia, College in New fork, in 17$4j and 
Rhode Island College (now Brown University), in 1764; and 
the habit of granting degrees grew up naturally and almost 
imperceptibly. A new departure is marked alter the Revolu- 
tion by the establishment, at the instance of Jefferson, of the 
University of Virginia, whose large and liberal lines gave it 
more resemblance to the universities of the European conti- 
nent than to the then educationally narrow and socially domes- 
tic colleges of England. 

At present most of the American universities are referable 
to one of two types, which may be described as the older and 
the newer, or the Private and the Public type. By the Old or 
Private type I denote a college on the model of a college in 
Oxford or Cambridge, with a head called the President, and a 
number of teachers, now generally called professors ; a body of 
governors or trustees in whom the property and general control 
of the institution is vested ; a prescribed course of instruction 
which all students are expected to follow ; buildings, usually 
called dormitories, provided for the lodging of the students, 
and a more or less strict, but always pretty effective, discipline 
enforced by the teaching staff. Such a college is usually of 
private foundation, and is almost always connected with some 
religious denomination. 

Under the term Xew or Public type I include universities 
established, endowed, and governed by a State, usually through 
a body of persons called Regents. In such a university there 
commonly exists considerable freedom of choice among various 
courses of study. The students, or at least the majority of 
them, reside where they please in the city, and are subject to 
ven r little discipline. There are seldom or never denomina- 
tional affiliations, and the instruction is often gratuitous. 

There are, however, institutions which it is hard to refer to 
one or other type. Some of these began as private foundations, 
with a collegiate and quasi-domestic character, but have now 
developed into true universities, generally resembling those of 
Germany or Scotland. Harvard in Massachusetts and Yale in 
Connecticut are instances. Others have been founded by pri- 
vate persons, but as fully equipped universities, and wholly 



666 SOCIAL INSTITUTIONS part vi 

undenominational. Cornell at Ithaca in Western New York 
is an instance ; Johns Hopkins in Baltimore is another of a dif- 
ferent order. Some have been founded by public authority, 
yet have been practically left to be controlled by a body of 
self-renewing trustees. Columbia College in New York City 
is an instance. Still if we were to run through a list of the 
universities and colleges in the United States, we should find 
that the great majority were either strictly private foundations 
governed by trustees, or wholly public foundations governed by 
the State. That is to say, the two familiar English types, viz. 
the University, which though a public institution is yet little 
interfered with by the State, which is deemed to be composed 
of its graduates and students, and whose self-government con- 
sists in its being governed by the graduates, and the College, 
which is a private corporation, consisting of a head, fellows, 
and scholars, and governed by the head and fellows — neither 
of them appear in modern America. On the other hand, the 
American university of the Public type differs from the uni- 
versities of Germany in being placed under a State Board, not 
under a Minister. Neither in Germany nor in Scotland do we 
find anything corresponding to the American university or 
college of the Private type, for in neither of these countries is 
a university governed by a body of self-renewing trustees. 1 

It is impossible within the limits of a chapter to do more 
than state a few of the more salient characteristics of the 
American universities. I shall endeavour to present these 
characteristics in the fewest possible words, and for the sake 
of clearness shall group what I have to say under separate 
heads. 

Statistics. — The report for 1889-90 of the United States 
Education Bureau gives the total number of universities and 
colleges, i.e. institutions granting degrees and professing to 
give an instruction, higher than that of schools, in the liberal 
arts, at 415, with 7918 professors or instructors, of whom 1083 
were women, and 118,581 students, of whom 39,415 are stated 
to be in the preparatory, 44,133 in the collegiate, 1998 in the 

1 The Scotch universities (since the Act of 1858), under their University- 
Courts, and the Victoria University in the north of England present, however, 
a certain resemblance to the American system, inasmuch as the governing 
body is in these institutions not the teaching body. 



Schools of science 


63 


with 1182 


" theology 


145 


744 


" law 


54 


346 


11 medicine 2 


228 


" 3987 



chap, cv THE UNIVERSITIES 007 

graduate, and 15,611 in the professional department. Of the 
total, 86,066 are stated to be men, 25,489 women, the rest being 
apparently not distinguished in the returns. 1 Many of these 
institutions have professional departments for theology, law, 
or medicine. But these figures are, to some extent, imperfect, 
because a few institutions omit to send returns, and cannot be 
compelled to do so, the Federal government having no author- 
ity in the matter. The number of degree-giving bodies, teach- 
ers, and students is therefore somewhat larger than is here 
stated, but how much larger it is not easy to ascertain. Be- 
sides these there are returned — 

teachers 13,017 students. 
7,013 
" 4,518 

« 24,242 3 " 

(including dentistry and pharmacy) 

The number of degrees conferred is returned as being, in 
classical and scientific colleges, 9017, and in professional 
schools, 3296, besides 727 honorary degrees, 274 whereof are 
of the degree of D.D. 

General Character of the Universities and Colleges. — Out of 
this enormous total of degree-granting bodies very few answer 
to the modern conception of a university. If we define a uni- 
versity as a place where teaching which puts a man abreast of 
the fullest and most exact knowledge of the time, is given in a 
range of subjects covering all the great departments of intel- 
lectual life, not more than twelve and possibly only eight or 
nine of the American institutions would fall within the defini- 
tion. Of these nearly all are to be found in the Atlantic States. 
Next below them come some thirty or forty foundations which 
are scarcely entitled to the name of university, some because 
their range of instruction is still limited to the traditional lit- 
erary and scientific course such as it stood thirty years ago, 
others because, while professing to teach a great variety of 
subjects, they teach them in an imperfect way, having neither 

1 Institutions for women only are not included in this list. 

2 Of these 228, 14 institutions (with 2G8 teachers and 1164 students) are 
homoeopathic. 

3 Of these students 2458 were women. 



668 SOCIAL INSTITUTIONS part vi 

a sufficiently large staff of highly trained professors, nor an 
adequate provision of laboratories, libraries, and other external 
appliances. The older New England colleges are good types 
of the former group. Their instruction is sound and thorough 
as far as it goes, well calculated to fit a man for the professions 
of law or divinity, but it omits many branches of learning and 
science which have grown to importance within the last fifty 
years. There are also some Western colleges which deserve 
to be placed in the same category. Most of the Western State 
universities belong to the other group of this second class, 
that of institutions which aim at covering more ground than 
they are as yet able to cover. They have an ambitious pro- 
gramme ; but neither the state of preparation of their students, 
nor the strength of the teaching staff, enables them to do jus- 
tice to the promise which the programme holds out. They are 
true universities rather in aspiration than in fact. 

Below these again there is a third and much larger class of 
colleges, let us say three hundred, which are for most intents 
and purposes schools. They differ from the gymnasia of Ger- 
many, the lycees of France, the grammar schools of England 
and high schools of Scotland not only in the fact that they give 
degrees to those who have satisfactorily passed through their 
prescribed course or courses, but in permitting greater personal 
freedom to the students than boys would be allowed in those 
countries. They are universities or colleges as respects some 
of their arrangements, but schools in respect of the educational 
results attained. These three hundred may be further divided 
into two sub-classes, distinguished from one another partly by 
their revenues, partly by the character of the population they 
serve, partly by the personal gifts of the president, as the head 
of the establishment is usually called, and of the teachers. 
Some seventy or eighty, though comparatively small, are strong 
by the zeal and capacity of their staff, and while not attempt- 
ing to teach everything, teach the subjects which they do under- 
take with increasing thoroughness. The remainder would do 
better to renounce the privilege of granting degrees and be con- 
tent to do school work according to school methods. The West 
and South are covered with these small colleges. In Illinois I 
find 28 named in the Eeport of the United States Education 
Bureau, in Missouri 27, in Tennessee 20. In Ohio 37 are re- 



n.AP. cv T11K UNIVERSITIES 689 

turned — and the number may possibly be larger — scarce any 
one of which deserves to be called a university. The most full \ 
equipped would seem to be the State University at Columbus, 
with a faculty of 32 teachers; but of its students 165 are in 
the preparatory department, 221 in the collegiate department, 
only 13 in the graduate department. Oberlin and the Ohio 
Wesleyan University at Delaware (both denominational) have 
larger totals of students, and may be quite as efficient, but in 
these colleges also the majority of students are to be found in 
the preparatory department. On the other hand, Massachu- 
setts with a wealth far exceeding that of Missouri, and a pop- 
ulation not much less, has only nine universities or colleges. 

The total number of students in Harvard is given as 2126, 
in Yale 1477, in the State University of Michigan 2158, in 
Columbia College, New York, 1671, in the University of Penn- 
sylvania 1550, in Cornell 1329. 

Revenues. — Nearly all, if not all, of the degree-granting 
bodies are endowed, the great majority by private founders, 
but a good many also by grants of land made by the State in 
which they stand, partly out of lands set apart for educational 
purposes by the Federal government. In most cases the lands 
have been sold and the proceeds invested. Many of the State 
universities of the West receive a grant from the State treas- 
ury, voted annually or biennially by the legislature, but a 
preferable plan, which several States have recently adopted, is 
to enact a permanent statute giving annually to the university 
some fraction of a mill (y^Vo of a dollar) out of every dollar 
of the total valuation of the State. This acts automatically, 
increasing the grant as the resources of the State increase. 
The greater universities are constantly being enriched by the 
gifts of private individuals, often their own graduates ; but 
the complaint is heard that these gifts are too frequently appro- 
priated to some specific purpose, instead of being added to the 
general funds of the university. Harvard, Yale, Columbia, 
Cornell, and Johns Hopkins are now all of them wealthy founda- 
tions, and the stream of munificence swells daily. 1 Before long 

1 Mr. Johns Hopkins gave £700,000 to the university he founded at Balti- 
more. "Within the last few years a magnificent endowment has been given by 
Mr. Leland Stanford, Senator for California, to found a new university at 
Palo Alto in that State, and still more recently Mr. John D. Rockefeller lias 
given a vast sum to the new university lie has established in Chicago. 



670 SOCIAL INSTITUTIONS part vi 

there will be universities in America with resources far sur- 
passing those of any Scottish university, and approaching the 
collective income of the university and all the colleges in 
Oxford or in Cambridge. In some States the real property 
and funds of universities are exempt from taxation. 

Government. — As already remarked, no American university 
or college is, so far as I know, governed either by its grad- 
uates alone, like Oxford and Cambridge, or by its teaching 
staff alone, like the Scotch universities before the Act of 1858. 
The State universities are usually controlled and managed by 
a board, generally called the Regents, sometimes elected by 
the people of the State, sometimes appointed by the Governor 
or the legislature. There are States with an enlightened pop- 
ulation, or in which an able president has been able to guide 
and influence the Regents or the legislature, in which this 
plan has worked excellently, securing liberal appropriations, 
and interesting the commonwealth in the welfare of the high- 
est organ of its intellectual life. Such a State is Michigan. 
There are also States, such as California, in which the haste 
or unwisdom of the legislature seems for a time to have 
cramped the growth of the university. 

All other universities and colleges are governed by boards 
of governors or trustees, sometimes allowed to renew them- 
selves by co-optation, sometimes nominated by a religious 
denomination or other external authority. 1 The president 
of the institution is often, but not always, an ex officio member 
of this board, to which the management of property and finan- 
cial interests belongs, while internal discipline and educa- 
tional arrangements are usually left to the academic staff. A 
visitor from Europe is struck by the prominence of the presi- 
dent in an American university or college, and the almost 
monarchical position which he sometimes occupies towards 
the professors as well as towards the students. Far more 
authority seems to be vested in him, far more to turn upon 
his individual talents and character, than in the universities 

1 In Harvard the government is vested in a self-renewing body of seven 
persons called the Corporation, or technically, the President and Fellows of 
Harvard College, who have the charge of the property; and in a Board of 
Overseers, appointed formerly by the legislature, now by the graduates, five 
each year to serve for six years, with a general supervision of the educational 
system, educational details and discipline being left to the Faculty. 



TllK UNIVERSITIES 671 



of Europe. Neither the German Pro-Rector, nor the Vice- 
Chancellor in Oxford and Cambridge, nor the Principal in a 
Scottish university, nor the Provost of Trinity College in 
Dublin, nor the head in one of the colleges in Oxford or 
Cambridge, is anything like so important a personage in re- 
spect of his office, whatever influence his individual gifts may 
give him, as an American college president. 1 In this, as in not 
a few other respects, America is less republican than England. 

Of late years there have been active movements to secure 
the representation of the graduates of each university or col- 
lege upon its governing body ; and it now frequently happens 
that some of the trustees are elected by the alumni. Good 
results follow, because the alumni are disposed to elect men 
younger and more abreast of the times, than most of the per- 
sons whom the existing trustees co-opt. 

The Teaching Staff. — The Faculty, as it is usually called, 
varies in numbers and efficiency according to the popularity 
of the university or college and its financial resources. The 
largest staff mentioned in the tables of the Bureau of Educa- 
tion is that of Harvard, with 217 professors, instructors, and 
lecturers : while Yale has 143, Columbia and the University 
of Pennsylvania each. 180, Princeton 45, the University of 
Michigan 96, Johns Hopkins 58. Cornell returns 104, but 
apparently not all of these are constantly occupied in teaching. 

In the colleges of the West and Xorth-west the average 
number of teachers is small, say twelve in the collegiate, five 
in the preparatory department. It is larger in the State uni- 
versities, but in some few of the Southern and ruder Western 
States sinks to five or six in all, each of them taking two or 
three subjects. I remember to have met in the Far West a col- 
lege president — I will call him Mr. Johnson — who gave me a 
long account of his young university, established by public 

1 The president of a college was formerly usually, and in denominational 
colleges almost invariably, a clergyman, and generally lectured on mental 
and moral philosophy. (When a layman was chosen at Harvard in 1828 the 
clergy thought it an encroachment.) He is to-day much less likely to be in 
orders even in a denominational college. However, of the 37 Ohio colleges 
about 20 seem to have clerical presidents. The greater universities of the 
East (except Yale and Princeton), and the Western State universities are 
now usually ruled by laymen. Even Amherst, an old and strictly denomina- 
tional college, and two of the leading Methodist universities — De Pauw and 
the North-western -have no longer clerical heads. 



672 SOCIAL INSTITUTIONS part vi 

authority, and receiving some small grant from the legislature. 
He was an active sanguine man, and in dilating on his plans 
frequently referred to " the Faculty " as doing this or contem- 
plating that. At last I asked of how many professors the 
Faculty at present consisted. " Well," he answered, " just at 
present the Faculty is below its full strength, but it will soon 
be more numerous." "And at present?" I inquired. "At 
present it consists of Mrs. Johnson and myself." 

The salaries paid to professors, although tending to rise, 
seem small compared with the general wealth of the country 
and the cost of living. The highest known to me are those in 
Columbia College, a few of which exceed $5000 (£1000) a 
year, and in the new university at Chicago, which has offered 
some of $ 7000. I doubt if any others reach these figures, 
except those in the Harvard Law School, which are $5000. 
Even in Yale, Johns Hopkins, and Cornell, most fall below 
$4000. Harvard now gives $4500 to its full professors. A 
few presidents receive $10,000, which is the salary of an asso- 
ciate justice of the Supreme court ; but over the country gen- 
erally I should guess that a president rarely receives $4000, 
often only $3000 or $2000, and the professors less in propor- 
tion. Under these conditions it may be found surprising that 
so many able men are to be found on the teaching staff of not 
a few colleges as well as universities, and that in the greater 
universities there are also many who have trained themselves 
by a long and expensive education in Europe for their work. 
The reason is to be found partly in the fondness for science 
and learning which has lately shown itself in America, and 
which makes men of intellectual tastes prefer a life of letters 
with poverty to success in business or at the bar, partly, as 
regards the smaller Western colleges, to religious motives, 
these colleges being largely officered by the clergy of the de- 
nomination they belong to, especially by those who love study, 
or find their talents better suited to the class-room than to the 
pulpit. 

The professors seem to be always among the social aristocracy 
of the city in which they live, though usually unable, from the 
smallness of their incomes, to enjoy social life as the corre- 
sponding class does in Scotland or even in England. The posi- 
tion of president is often one of honour and influence : no 



T11K UNIVERSITIES 073 



university dignitaries in Great Britain arc so well known to 
the public, or have their opinions quoted with so much respect, 
as the heads of the seven or eight leading universities of the 
United States. 

The Students. — It is the glory of the American universities, 
as of those of Scotland and Germany, to be freely accessible to 
all classes of the people. In the Eastern States comparatively 
tew are the sons of working men, because parents can rarely 
bear the expense of a university course, or dispense with a boy's 
earnings after he reaches thirteen. But even in the East a good 
many come from straitened homes, receiving assistance from 
some richer neighbour or from charitable funds belonging to 
the college at which they may present themselves, while some, 
in days when the standard of instruction was lower, and women 
were less generally employed as teachers, used to keep district 
schools for three months in winter. In the West, where there 
is little distinction of classes though great disparity of wealth, 
so many institutions exact a merely nominal fee, or are so 
ready to receive without charge a promising student, that the 
only difficulty in a young man's way is that of supporting him- 
self during his college course : and this he frequently does by 
earning during one half the year what keeps him during the 
other half. Often he earns it by teaching school: — nearly all 
the eminent men of the last forty years, including several Presi- 
dents of the United States, have taught school in some part 
of their earlier careers. Sometimes he works at a trade, as 
many a student has done in Scotland ; and, as in Scotland, he 
is all the more respected by his class-mates for it. The in- 
struction which he gets in one of these Western colleges may 
not carry him very far, but it opens a door through which men 
of real power can pass into the professions, or even into the 
domain of learning and scientific research. In no country are 
the higher kinds of teaching more cheap or more accessible. 
There is a growing tendency for well-to-do parents to send their 
sons to one of the greater universities irrespective of the pro- 
fession they contemplate for them, that is to say, purely for 
the sake of general culture, or of the social advantages which 
a university course is thought to confer. The usual age at 
w T hich students enter one of the leading universities of the East 
is, as in England, from eighteen to nineteen, and the usual age 

VOL. II 2 x 



674 SOCIAL INSTITUTIONS part vi 

of graduation twenty-two to twenty-three, 1 the regular course 
covering four years. In the West many students come at a 
more advanced age, twenty-four or twenty-five, their early 
education having been neglected, so the average in Western 
colleges is higher than in the East. In Scotland boys of four- 
teen and men of twenty-four used to sit side by side in univer- 
sity class-rooms, and compete on equal terms. The places of 
less note draw students from their immediate vicinity only ; to 
those of importance boys are sent from all parts of the Union. 
The University of Michigan has been a sort of metropolitan 
university for the North-western States. Harvard and Yale, 
which used to draw only from the Atlantic States, now receive 
students from the West, and even from the shores of the Pacific. 
A student generally completes his four years' graduation course 
at the same institution, but there are some who leave a small 
college after one year to enter at a larger one. A man who 
has graduated in a college which has only an Arts or collegiate 
department, will often, in case he designs himself for law or 
medicine, resort to the law or medical school of a larger uni- 
versity, or even, if he means to devote himself to science or 
philology, will pursue what is called a " post-graduate course " 
at some one of the greatest seats of learning. Thus it may 
happen, as in Germany, that a man has studied at three or four 
universities in succession. 

Buildings and External Aspect. — Few of the buildings in any 
college or university are more than a century old, 2 and among 
these there is none of an imposing character, or with marked 
architectural merit. Many of the newer ones are handsome 
and well arranged, but I have heard it remarked that too 
much money is now being spent, at least in the West, upon 
showy buildings, possibly with the view of commanding atten- 
tion. The ground plan is rarely or never that of a quadrangle 
as in England and Scotland, not because it was desired to 
avoid monastic precedents, but because detached buildings are 
thought to be better adapted to the cold and snows of winter. 
At Harvard and Yale the brick dormitories (buildings in which 
the students live) and class-rooms are scattered over a large 

1 President Eliot gives it for Harvard at 22 years and 7 months. 

2 I remember one in Yale of a.d. 1753, called South Middle, which was ven- 
erated as the oldest building there. 



THE UNIVERSITIES 675 



space of grass planted with ancient .bus. and have a very 
pleasing effect. Rochester, too, lias a spacious and handsome 
Campus. But none of the universities frequented by men, 
unless it be the University of Wisconsin, lias such an ample 
and agreeable pleasure-ground surrounding- it as those possessed 
by the two oldest women's colleges. Vassar and \\ 'ellesley. 

Time spent in Study. — Vacations are shorter than in Eng- 
land or Scotland. That of summer usually lasts from the 
middle of June to the middle of September, and there are gen- 
erally ten days or more given at Christmas and at least a week 
in April. Work begins earlier in the morning than in Eng- 
land, but seldom so early as in Germany. Very few students 
seem to work as hard as the men reading for high honours do 
at Cambridge in England. 

Local Distribution of Universities and Colleges. — The number 
of degree-granting bodies seems to be larger in the Middle and 
Xorth-western States than either in New England or in the 
South. In the tables of the Bureau of Education I find New 
York. Pennsylvania, Ohio, Illinois, Iowa, credited with 135, 
very nearly one-third of the total for the United States ; but 
as many are small and indifferent, the mere number does not 
necessarily speak of an ample and solid provision of education. 
Indeed Ohio and Illinois, with a population of about seven 
millions, have only one institution (the new university at 
Chicago) eminent either by its wealth or the type of instruction 
it offers. The thirteen Southern States (excluding Missouri, 
Maryland, and Delaware) stand in the tables as possessing 
114. but no one of these, except the University of Virginia, 
attains the first rank; and the great majority are under- 
manned and hampered by the imperfect preparation of the 
students whom they receive. 1 In this respect, and as regards 
education generally, the South, though advancing, is still far 
behind the other sections of the country. There are several 
colleges, all or nearly all of them denominational, established 
for coloured people only. 

System and Methods of Instruction. — Thirty years ago it 
would have been comparatively easy to describe these, for 

1 It is hoped that the recently founded Tulane University in Xew Orleans 
will eventually make its way to the front rank. It ha^ an endowment of 
about >-j.ooo,<m>> (£4rx>,OO0). 



676 SOCIAL INSTITUTIONS 



nearly all the universities and colleges prescribed a regular 
four years' curriculum to a student, chiefly consisting of classics 
and mathematics, and leading up to a B.A. degree. A youth 
had little or no option what he would study, for everybody 
was expected to take certain classes in each year, and received 
his degree upon having satisfactorily performed what was in 
each class required of him. 1 The course was not unlike that 
followed (till 1892) in the Scottish universities : it began with 
Latin, Greek, and mathematics, and wound up with logic, 
mental and moral philosophy, and a tincture of physics. In- 
struction was mainly, indeed in the small colleges wholly, 
catechetical. Nowadays the simple uniformity of this tradi- 
tional system has vanished in the leading universities of the 
Eastern and Middle States, and in nearly all the State uni- 
versities of the West. There are still regular classes, a cer- 
tain number of which eveiy student must attend, but he is 
allowed to choose for himself between a variety of courses or 
curricula, by following any one of which he may obtain a 
degree. The freedom of choice is greater in some universities, 
less in others ; in some, choice is permitted from the first, in 
most, however (including the great University of Yale), only 
after two years. In Harvard freedom seems to have reached 
its maximum. This so-called elective system has been and is 
the subject of a warm controversy, which has raged chiefly 
round the question whether Greek shall be a compulsory sub- 
ject. The change was introduced for the sake of bringing 
scientific subjects into the curriculum and enabling men to 
specialize in them and in matters like history and Oriental or 
Eomance philology, and was indeed a necessary concomitant 
to such a broadening of universities as may enable them to 
keep pace with the swift development of new branches of 
study and research during the last fort}' years. It is defended 
both on this ground and as being more likely than the old 
strictly limited courses to give every student something which 
will interest him. It is opposed as tending to bewilder him, 
to disperse and scatter his mind over a too wide range of sub- 
jects, perhaps unconnected with one another, to tempt him 
with the offer of an unchartered freedom which he wants the 

1 The University of Virginia was an exception, having received from the 
enlightened views of Jefferson an impulse towards greater freedom. 



THE UNIVERSITIES 077 



experience to use wisely. One or two conspicuous universities, 
— Princeton, for example, — and many smaller oolleges, have 
dung to tiu 1 old Bystem of one or two prescribed degree courses 

in which comparatively little variation is admitted. 1 An elec- 
tive system is indeed possible only where the teaching staff is 

large enough to do justice to a wide range of subjects. 

A parallel change has passed upon the methods of teaching. 
Lecturing with lew or no questions to the class interposed is 
becoming the rule in the larger universities, those especially 
which adopt the elective system, while what are called '-reci- 
tations.'* that is to say, catechetical methods resembling those 
of Scotland or of a college (not university) lecture in Oxford 
thirty years ago, remain the rule in the more conservative 
majority of institutions, and are practically universal in West- 
ern colleges. Some of the Eastern universities have recently 
established a system of informal instruction by the professor 
to a small group of students on the model of the German 
Seminar. Private " coaching," such as prevailed largely in 
Oxford and still prevails in Cambridge, is almost unknown. 

Requirements for Entrance. — All the better universities and 
colleges exact a minimum of knowledge from those who matri- 
culate. Some do this by imposing an entrance examination. 
Others allow certain schools, of whose excellence they are 
satisfied, to issue leaving certificates, the production of which 
entitles the bearer to be admitted without examination. This 
plan is said to work well. 2 Michigan seems to have led the 
way in establishing a judiciously regulated and systematized 
relation between the public schools and the State university, 
and the University of California has now an excellent system 

1 The small colleges are the more unwilling to drop Greek as a compulsory 
subject because they think that hy doing so they would lose the anchor hy 
which they hold to the higher culture, and confess themselves to he no longer 
universities. 

- At Harvard I was informed that ahout one-third of the students came 
from the public {i.e. publicly supported) schools. The proportion is in most 
universities larger. There is a growing tendency in America, especially in 
the East, for hoys of the richer class to he sent to private schools, and the 
excellence of such schools increases. The total number of endowed acade- 
mies, seminaries, and other private secondary schools over the country in 
188f>-00 is returned as 1632, With Hi. Hh) pupils (11,220 hoys and 6429 girls) 
preparing for a college classical course; 9649 pupils (6326 hoys and :\:vs-\ girls) 
preparing for a scientific coarse. Bnt these figures are, of course, far from 
complete. 



678 SOCIAL INSTITUTIONS part vi 

for inspecting schools and admitting students on the basis of 
school certificates. 

Degrees and Examinations. — It is only institutions which 
have been chartered by State authority that are deemed entitled 
to grant degrees. There are others which do so without any 
such legal title, but as the value of a degree per se is slight, 
the mischief done by these interlopers can hardly be serious. 
B. A.. M.A., D.D., and LL.D., the two latter usually for honorary 
purposes, 1 are the only degrees conferred in the great majority 
of colleges ; but of late years the larger universities have, in 
creating new courses, created a variety of new degrees also.- 
Degrees are awarded by examination, but never, I think, as 
often in Europe, upon a single examination held after the 
course of study has been completed. The student, as he goes 
through the various classes which make up his course, is ex- 
amined, sometimes at frequent intervals, sometimes at the end 
of each year, on the work done in the classes or on prescribed 
books, and the degree is ultimately awarded or refused on the 
combined result of all these tests. At no point in his career 
is he expected to submit to any one examination comparable, 
for the combined number and difficulty of the subjects in 
which he is questioned, to the final honour examinations at 
Oxford or Cambridge, even as now constituted, much less 
as they stood fift} T years ago. 

There is indeed no respect in which the American system is 
more contrasted with that of Oxford and Cambridge than the 
comparatively small part assigned to the award of honours. In 
England the Class list or Tripos has for many years past, ever 
since the universities awoke from their lethargy of last cen- 
tury, been the main motive power in stimulating undergradu- 
ates to exertion and in stemming the current which runs so 
strongly towards amusement and athletic exercises. Exam- 
inations have governed teaching instead of being used to test 

1 Honorary degrees are in some institutions, and not usually those of the 
highest standing, conferred with a profuseness which seems to argue an exag- 
gerated appreciation of inconspicuous merit. 

2 Mr. D. C. Gilman (President of Johns Hopkins University) mentions the 
following among the degree titles awarded in some institutions to women, the 
titles of Bachelor and Master heing deemed inappropriate, — Laureate of Sci- 
ence, Proficient in Music, Maid of Philosophy, Mistress of Polite Literature, 
Mistress of Music (Xoj-th American Review for March, 1885). 



ohap. o THE UNIVERSITIES 679 

it. [nthe United States, although most universities and col- 
leges reward with some sort of honourable mention fche students 
who have acquitted themselves aonspicuouslj well, graduation 
honours are not a great object of ambition; they win little 
fame within the institution, they are scarcely noticed beyond 
its walls. In many universities there is not even the stimulus, 
which acts powerfully in Scotland, of class prizes, awarded by 
examination or b\ the votes of the students. It is only a few 
institutions that possess scholarships awarded by competition. 
American teachers seem to find the discipline of their regular 
class system sufficient to maintain a reasonable level of dili- 
gence among their students, being doubtless aided by the fact 
that, in all but a very few universities, the vast majority of the 
students come from simple homes, possess scanty means, and 
have their way in life to make. Diligence is the tradition of 
the American colleges, especially of those remote from the 
dissipating influences and social demands of large cities. 
Even the greater universities have never been, as the English 
universities avowedly were in last century, and to a great 
extent are still, primarily places for spending three or four 
pleasant years, only incidentally places of instruction. With 
some drawbacks, this feature of the American seminaries has 
two notable merits. One is that it escapes that separation 
which has grown up in Oxford and Cambridge between pass or 
poll men and honour men. Every student supposes himself to 
have come to college for the purpose of learning something. 
In all countries, even in Switzerland and Scotland, there is a 
percentage of idle men in places of study; but the idleness of 
an American student is due to something in his own character 
or circumstances, and does not, as in the case of the English 
"poll-man," rest on a theory in his own mind, probably shared 
by his parents, that he entered the university in order to enjoy 
himself and form useful social connections. The other merit is 
that the love of knowledge and truth is not, among the better 
minds, vulgarized by being made the slave of competition and 
of the passion for quick and conspicuous success. An Ameri- 
can student is not induced by his university to think less of 
the intrinsic value of what he is learning than of how far it 
will pay in an examination: nor does he regard his ablest 
fellow-students as his rivals over a difficult course for high 



680 SOCIAL INSTITUTIONS part vi 

stakes, rivals whose speed and strength he must constantly be 
comparing with his own. Americans who have studied in an 
English university after graduating in one of their own have told 
me that nothing surprised them more in England than the 
incessant canvassing of one another's intellectual capacities 
which went on among the clever undergraduates. 1 Probably 
less work is got out of the better American students than the 
examination system exacts from the same class of men in Ox- 
ford and Cambridge. Possibly the qualities of readiness and 
accuracy are not so thoroughly trained. Possibly it is a loss 
not to be compelled to carry for a few weeks a large mass of 
facts in one's mind under the obligation of finding any one at a 
moment's notice. Those who direct the leading American uni- 
versities recognize in these points the advantages of English 
practice. But they conceive that the corresponding disadvan- 
tages are much greater, and are in this matter more inclined 
to commiserate Oxford and Cambridge than to imitate them. 

Nearly all American students do graduate, that is to say, as 
those who would be likely to fail drop off before the close of the 
fourth year, the proportion of plucks in the later examinations 
is small. As regards the worth of the degrees given, there is 
of course the greatest possible difference between those of the 
better and those of the lower institutions, nor is this difference 
merely one between the few great universities and the mass of 
small colleges or Western State universities, for among the 
smaller colleges there are some which maintain as high a 
standard of thoroughness as the greatest. The degrees of the 
two hundred colleges to which I have referred as belonging to 
the lower group of the third class have no assignable value, 
except that of indicating that a youth has been made to work 
during four years at subjects above the elementary. Those of 
institutions belonging to the higher group and the two other 
classes represent, on an average, as much knowledge and men- 
tal discipline as the poll or pass degrees of Cambridge or 
Oxford, possibly less than the pass degrees of the Scottish 
universities. Between the highest American degrees and the 
honour degrees of Oxford and Cambridge it is hard to make 
any comparison. 

1 If this be true of England, the evil is probably no smaller under the class- 
prize system of Scotland. 



,-hvp. cv THE rXlVKKSll'll s CM 

A degree is in the United States given only to those who 
have followed ;i presoribed course in the teaching institution 
which confers it. No American institution has so tar departed 
from the old and true conception of a university, approved by 

both history and policy, as to become a mere examining board, 
awarding degrees to anybody who may present himself from any 
quarter. However, the evils of existing arrangements, under 
which places below the level of German gymnasia are permitted 
to grant academic titles, are deemed so serious by some educa- 
tional reformers that it has been proposed to create in each 
State a single degree-conferring authority to which the various 
institutions within the State should be, so to speak, tributary, 
sending up their students to its examinations, which would of 
course be kept at a higher level than most of the present in- 
dependent bodies maintain. This is what physicians call a 
-• heroic remedy " ; and with all respect to the high authorities 
who now advocate it. I hope they will reconsider the problem, 
and content themselves with methods of reform less likely to 
cramp the freedom of university teaching. 

Notwithstanding these evils, and the vast distance between 
the standard of a university like Johns Hopkins at the one end 
of the scale, and that of the colleges of Arkansas at the other, a 
degree, wherever obtained, seems to have a certain social value. 
u It is," said one of my informants, " a thing which you would 
mention regarding a young man for whom you were writing a 
letter of introduction."' This does not mean very much, but it 
is better than nothing ; it would appear to give a man some 
sort of advantage in seeking for educational or literary work. 
In several States a man who can point to his degree obtains 
speedier entrance to the bar, and some denominations endeavour 
to secure that their clergy shall have graduated. 

Post-graduate Courses. — Several of the leading universities 
have lately instituted sets of lectures for students who have 
completed the regular four years' collegiate course and taken 
their B.A. or B.Sc, hoping in this way to provide for the 
d study of subjects for which room cannot be found in 
the regular course. Johns Hopkins University was among 
the iirst to devote itself especially to this object. Its aim 
was not so much to rival the existing universities as to dis- 
charge a function which many of them had not the means of 



082 SOCIAL INSTITUTIONS part vi 

undertaking — that of providing the highest special instruc- 
tion, not necessarily in every subject, but in subjects which it 
could secure the ablest professors to teach. It has already 
done much admirable work in this direction, and made good 
its claim to a place in the front rank of transatlantic seats of 
education. There are also many graduates who, desiring to 
devote themselves to some particular branch of science or 
learning, such as experimental physics, philology, or history, 
spend a semester or two at a German university. Extremely 
few come to Oxford or Cambridge. American professors, when 
asked why they send their men exclusively to Germany, con- 
sidering that in England they would have the advantage of a 
more interesting social life, and of seeing how England is try- 
ing to deal with problems similar in many respects to their 
own, answer that the English universities make no provision 
for any students except those who wish to go through one of 
the regular degree courses, and are so much occupied in pre- 
paring men to pass examinations as to give, except in two or 
three branches, but little advanced teaching. There can be no 
doubt that if Oxford and Cambridge offered the advantages 
which Leipzig and Berlin do, the afflux to the two former of 
American graduates would soon be considerable. 

Professional and Scientific Schools. — Besides the very large 
number of schools for all the practical arts, agriculture, engi- 
neering, mining, and so forth, as well as for the professions of 
theology, law, and medicine, statistics of which have been 
already given, some universities have established scientific 
schools, or agricultural schools, or theological, legal, and medi- 
cal faculties. The theological faculties are usually denomina- 
tional ; but Harvard, which used to be practically Unitarian, 
has now an unsectarian faculty, in which there are several 
learned divines belonging to Trinitarian denominations ; and 
no difficulty seems to have arisen in working this arrangement. 
The law school is usually treated as a separate department, to 
which students may resort who have not graduated in the uni- 
versity. The course is usually of two, sometimes of three, 
years, and covers all the leading branches of common law, 
equity, crimes, civil and criminal procedure. Many of these 
schools are extremely efficient. 

Research. — Till recently no special provision was made for 



I HE I NIVERSITIl 683 



the promotion of research as apart from the work of Learning 
and teaching; but the example Bet by Johns Hopkins and 
Harvard in founding fellowships for this purpose has now 
been pretty largely followed, and in L889-90 there were in 
25 institutions no less than 172 fellowships. 1 and the unceasing 
munificence of private benefactors may be expected to con- 
tinue to supply the necessary funds. There is now, especially 
in the greater universities, a good deal of specialization in 
beaching, so an increasing number of professors are able to 
occupy themselves with research. 

Aids to Deserving Students. — Extremely few colleges have 
scholarships or bursaries open to competition like those of the 
colleges in Oxford and Cambridge and of the Scottish univer- 
sities, still fewer have fellowships. But in a large number 
there exist funds, generally placed at the disposal of the Presi- 
dent or the Faculty, which are applicable for the benefit of 
industrious men who need help; and it is common to remit 
fees in the case of those whose circumstances warrant the 
indulgence. When, as occasionally happens, free places or 
grants out of these funds are awarded upon examination, it 
would be thought improper for any one to compete whose cir- 
cumstances placed him above the need of pecuniary aid : when 
the selection is left to the college authorities, they are said 
to discharge it with honourable impartiality. Having often 
asked whether favouritism was complained of, I could never 
hear that it was. In some colleges there exists a loan fund, 
out of which money is advanced to the poor student, who 
afterwards repays it. President Garfield obtained his educa- 
tion at Williams College by the help of such a fund. The 
denominations often give assistance to promising youths who 
intend to enter the ministry. Says one of my most experi- 
enced informants : " In our country any young fellow of ability 
and energy can get education without paying for it/"' 2 The 

1 Of these Harvard and Columbia had 24 each, Johns Hopkins 21, Yale (>, 
Princeton 12, the University of Pennsylvania and Cornell 8 each, Vanderbilt 
University (in Tennessee) 10, the University of Wisconsin 10. 

2 Fees, in the West especially, are low, indeed many Western State uni- 
versities require none. In the University of Michigan a student belonging to 

te pays $10 on admission and an annual f i $20 (Literary Depart- 
ment), or $25 (other departments), students from without the State paying 
[mission), $30 (Literary Department), $35 (other departments) . 



084 SOCIAL INSTITUTIONS pait vi 

experiment tried at Cornell University in the way of provid- 
ing remunerative labour for poor students who were at the 
same time to follow a course of instruction, seems to have 
proved unworkable, for the double effort imposes too severe 
a strain. 

Social Life of the Students. — Those who feel that not only 
the keenest pleasure, but the most solid moral and intellectual 
benefit of their university life lay in the friendships which 
they formed in that happy spring-time, will ask how in this 
respect America compares with England. Oxford and Cam- 
bridge, with their historic colleges maintaining a corporate life 
from century to century, bringing the teachers into easy and 
friendly relations with the taught, forming between the mem- 
bers of each society a close and almost family tie which is not 
incompatible with loyalty to the great corporation for whose 
sake all the minor corporations exist, have succeeded in pro- 
ducing a more polished, graceful, and I think also intellect- 
ually stimulative, type of student life than either German}', 
with its somewhat boyish frolics of duelling and compotations, 
or Scotland, where the youth has few facilities for social inter- 
course with his classmates, and none with his professor. The 
American universities occupy an intermediate position between 
those of England and those of Germany or Scotland. Formerly 
all or nearly all the students were lodged in buildings called 
dormitories — which, however, were not merely sleeping places, 
but contained sitting-rooms jointly tenanted by two or more 
students — and meals were taken in common. This is still 
the practice in the smaller colleges, and remains firmly rooted 
in Yale, Harvard, and Princeton. In the new State univer- 
sities, and in nearly all universities planted in large cities, the 
great bulk of the students board with private families, or 
(more rarely) live in lodgings or hotels, and an increasing 
number have begun to do so even in places which, like Har- 
vard and Brown University (Rhode Island) and Cornell, have 
some dormitories. The dormitory plan works well in compara- 
tively small establishments, especially when, as is the case 
with the smaller denominational colleges, they are almost like 
large families, and are permeated by a religious spirit. But 
in the larger universities the tendency is now towards letting 
the students reside where they please. The maintenance of 



ohap - i THE QNIVERSITIES 085 

discipline is deemed to give less trouble; the poorer student 
is inclined to imitate ot envy the luxurious habits of the 
rich. Sometimes, however, as where there is no town for 
students to lodge in, dormitories are indispensable. The chief 
breaches of order which the authorities have to deal with 
arise in dormitories from the practice of "hazing," i.e. playing 
practical jokes, especially upon freshmen. In an American 
college the students are classed by years, those of the first 
year being called freshmen, of the second year sophomores, of 
the third year juniors, of the fourth year seniors. The bond 
between the members of each ''class'' (i.e. the entrants of 
the same year) is a pretty close one, and they are apt to 
act together. Between sophomores and freshmen — for the 
seniors and juniors are supposed to have put away childish 
things — there is a smouldering jealousy which sometimes 
breaks out into a strife sufficiently acute, though there is sel- 
dom anything more than mischievously high spirits behind it, 
to give the President and Faculty trouble. 1 Otherwise the con- 
duct of the students is generally good. Intoxication, gaming, 
or other vices are rare, those who come to work, as the vast 
majority do, being little prone to such faults ; it is only in a 
few universities situate in or near large cities and resorted to 
by the sons of the rich that they give serious trouble. Of late 
years the passion for base-ball, foot-ball, rowing, and athletic 
exercises generally, has become very strong in the universities 
last mentioned, where fashionable youth congregates, and the 
student who excels in these seems to be as much a hero among 
his comrades as a member of the University Eight or Eleven 
is in England. The excessive amount of time devoted to com- 
petition in these sports, especially as regards foot-ball, and the 
inordinate value set upon eminence in them, have in some 
universities begun to cause disquiet to the authorities. 

The absence of colleges constituting social centres within a 
university has helped to develop in the American universities 
one of their most peculiar and interesting institutions — I mean 
the Greek letter societies. These are clubs or fraternities of 



1 Sophomores and freshmen have a whimsical habit of meeting one another 
in dense masses and trying which can push the other aside <>n the stairs or 
path. Tins is called " rashing.*' In some universities the admission of women 
as Btndents has put an end to it. 



SOCIAL INSTITUTIONS 



students, denoted by two or three Greek letters, the initials of 
the secret fraternity motto. Some of these fraternities exist in 
one college only, but the greater are established in a good many 
universities and colleges, having in each what is called a 
Chapter, and possessing in each a sort of club house, with 
several meeting and reading rooms, and sometimes also with 
bedrooms for the members. In some colleges as many as a 
third or a half, in a very few nearly all of the students, belong 
to a fraternity, which is an institution recognized and patro- 
nized by the authorities. New members are admitted by the 
votes of the Chapter ; and to obtain early admission to one of 
the best is no small compliment. They are, so far as I know, 
always non-political, though political questions may be debated 
and political essays read at their meetings ; and one is told 
that they allow no intoxicants to be kept in their buildings or 
used at the feasts they provide. They are thus something be- 
tween an English club and a German Studenten Corps, but with 
the element of the literary or " mutual improvement " societ} r 
thrown in. They are deemed a valuable part of the university 
system, not so much because they cultivate intellectual life as 
on account of their social influence. It is an object of ambi- 
tion to be elected a member ; it is a point of honour for a 
member to maintain the credit of the fraternity. Former 
members, who are likely to include some of the university pro- 
fessors, keep up their connection with the fraternity, and often 
attend its chapters in the college, or its general meetings. 
Membership constitutes a bond between old members during 
their whole life, so that a member on settling in some distant 
city would probably find there persons who had belonged to his 
fraternity, and would be admitted to their local gatherings. 1 
Besides these there exist a few honorary societies into which 
students are elected in virtue of purely literary or scientific 
acquirements, as evidenced in the college examinations. The 
oldest and most famous is called the $BK, which is said to 
mean <£iAo<x<£i'a filov KvBepvrJTYjs, and exists in nearly all the lead- 
ing universities in most of the States. 

1 There are, of course, other students' societies besides these Greek letter 
ones, and in some universities the Greek letter societies have become purely 
social rather than literary. One of them is regarded with much suspicion by 
the authorities. 



THE UNIVERSITIES 087 



Religion. — I have already observed that most of the Ameri- 
can universities, and indeed a large majority of the smaller 
colleges, are denominational. This term, however, does not 
mean what it would mean in Europe, or at least in England. 
It means that they have been founded by or in connection with 
a particular church, and that they remain to some extent asso- 
ciated with it or influenced by it. Only 99 out of the 415 
mentioned in the Education Report state that they are unsec- 
tariin. The Methodists claim 74 colleges; the Presbyterians, 
49; the Baptists, 44; the Roman Catholics, 51; the Congre- 
gationalists, 22 ; the Protestant Episcopalians, 6. But, except 
as regards the Roman Catholic institutions, there is seldom 
any exclusion of teachers, and never of students, belonging to 
other churches, nor any attempt to give the instruction (except, 
of course, in the theological department, if there be one) a 
sectarian cast ; this indeed is apt to be expressly repudiated by 
them. Although it usually happens that students belonging 
to the church which influences the college are more numerous 
than those of any other church, students of other persuasions 
abound ; nor are efforts made to proselytize them. For instance, 
Harvard retains a certain slight flavour of Unitarianism, and 
has one or two Unitarian clergymen among the professors in 
its theological faculty ; Yale has always been Congregationalist, 
and has by its charter ten Congregationalist clergymen among 
its trustees ; and moreover has always a Congregationalist 
clergyman as its president, as Brown University has a Baptist 
clergyman. 1 Princeton is still more specifically Presbyterian, 
and the Episcopalians have several denominational colleges in 
which the local bishop is one of the trustees. But in none of 
these is there anything approaching to a test imposed upon 
professors ; all are resorted to alike by students belonging to 
any church or to none. 

In all the older universities, and in the vast majority of 
the more recent ones, there is a chapel in which religious 
services are regularly held, short prayers on week-days and 
sometimes also a full service on Sundays. In most institu- 

1 Brown University, formerly called Rhode Island College (founded in 
17*>1), is in the rather peculiar position of having hy its regulation four 
denominations, Baptists, Congregationalists, Episcopalians, and Quakers, 
represented on its two governing hodies, the trustees and the fellows, the 
Baptists having a majority. 



688 SOCIAL INSTITUTIONS part vi 

tions every student, unless of course he lias some conscientious 
objection, is expected to attend. The service seldom or never 
contains anything of a sectarian character, and arrangements 
are sometimes made for having it conducted by the clergy of 
various denominations in turn. Even among the professedly 
neutral new State universities, there are some which, like the 
University of Michigan, have daily prayers. There are of 
course persons who think that an unsectarian place of educa- 
tion cannot be a truly Christian place of education, and Cornell 
University in its early days had to face attacks directed against 
it on this score. 1 But the more prevalent view is that a uni- 
versity ought to be in a general sense religious without being 
sectarian. 2 An interesting experiment in unsectarian religious 
worship has for some time past been tried at Harvard. Attend- 
ance at the college chapel, formerly compulsory, is now volun- 
tary, and short morning daily services with extempore prayers 
are conducted by the chaplains, who are eminent ministers of 
different denominations, serving in turn for a few weeks each. 
The late Dr. Phillips Brooks was one of them ; and his short 
addresses profoundly impressed the students. About one-third 
of the total number of undergraduates usually attend. 

The Provision of University Education for Women. — The 
efforts made and experiments tried in this matter furnish ma- 

1 At Cornell University there exists a Sunday preacnership endowed with a 
fund of 830,000 (£6000) , which is used to recompense the services of distin- 
guished ministers of different denominations, who preach in succession during 
twenty-one Sundays of the academic year. The founder was an Episcopalian, 
whose first idea was to have a chaplaincy limited to ministers of his denomi- 
nation, but the trustees refused the endowment on such terms. The only stu- 
dents who absent themselves are Roman Catholics. 

2 This idea is exactly expressed in the regulations for the recent great foun- 
dation of Mr. Leland Stanford in California. It is declared to be the duty of 
the trustees " to prohibit sectarian instruction, but to have taught in the Uni- 
versity the immortality of the soul, the existence of an all-wise and benevolent 
Creator, and that obedience to His laws is the highest duty of man." The 
founders further declare, " While it is our desire that there shall be no secta- 
rian teaching in this institution, it is very far from our thoughts to exclude 
divine service. We have provided that a suitable building be erected, wherein 
the professors of the various religious denominations shall from time to time 
be invited to deliver discourses not sectarian in character." On the other 
hand, the still more recent foundation of Mr. Rockefeller at Chicago pre- 
scribes that " at all times two-thirds of the trustees and also the president of 
the university and of its said college shall be members of regular Baptist 
churches — and in this particular the charter shall be for ever unalterable." 
All professorships, however, are to be free from any religious tests. 



OHAr.w THE UNIVERSITIES 080 



terial for a treatise. All I have space bo mention is that these 
efforts have chiefly flowed in two channels. One is the admis- 
sion of women to co-education with men in the same places of 
higher education. This has gone on for many years in some 
of the denominational colleges of the West, Buch as Oberlin 
and Antioeh. in Ohio. Both sexes have been taught in the 
same classes, meeting in the hours of recreation, but lodged in 
separate buildings. My informants all cdmmended the plan, 
declaring that the effect on the manners and general tone of 
the students was excellent. The State universities founded 
of late years in the West are by law open to women as well 
as to men. The number of women attending is always smaller 
than that of men, yet in some institutions it is considerable, 
as for instance at the University of Michigan at Ann Arbor 
there were, in 1889-90, 369 women and 1789 men, and in the 
University of Minnesota, 232 women and 770 men, while 
Oberlin had 901 women and 812 men. The students live where 
they will, but are taught in the same classes, generally, however, 
sitting on the opposite side of the class room from the men. 
The evidence given to me as to the working of this system in 
the Universities of California and Michigan, as well as in Cornell 
University, was favourable, save that the young men sometimes 
find the i-ompetition of the girls rather severe, and call them 
" study machines," observing that they are more eager, and 
less addicted to sports or to mere lounging. 

In the Eastern States the tendency has been to establish 
universities or colleges exclusively for women, and cases are 
known to me in which institutions that received both sexes 
ended by having a distinct department or separate college for 
women. There are persons even in the East who would prefer 
the scheme of co-education, but the more general view is that 
the stricter etiquette and what is called the " more complex 
civilization " of the older States render this undesirable. 1 The 
total number of colleges specially for women is given in the 
Education Report for 1889-90 at 179, with 577 male and 1648 
female instructors, and 24,851 students, of whom 11,811 were 
in the "collegiate department." Most of these colleges, how- 

1 As the late Mr. George William Curtis wrote three years ago: " H is now 
settled that Juliet may study, but shall she study with Romeo? — thai is a 
question which gives even Boston pause." 

vor.. ii 2 v 



690 SOCIAL INSTITUTIONS part ti 

ever, might more fitly be described as upper schools. The 
number of degrees conferred was 978. Among these colleges 
the best known, and apparently the most complete and effi- 
cient, 1 are Vassar, at Poughkeepsie, Xew York ; Wellesley and 
Smith in Massachusetts ; Bryn ]\Iawr in Pennsylvania. I vis- 
ited the two former, and was much impressed by the earnest- 
ness and zeal for learning by which both the professors and 
the students s'eemed to be inspired, as well as by the high 
level of the teaching given. They have happily escaped the 
temptation to which some similar institutions in England seem 
to yield, of making everything turn upon degree examinations. 
Harvard has established, in what was called its Annex, but is 
now more generally known as Radcliffe College, a separate 
department for women, in which the university professors 
lecture. I have no adequate data for comparing the quality 
of the education given to women in America with that pro- 
vided by women's colleges, and especially by Girton and 
Newnham, in England, but there can be no doubt that the 
eagerness to make full provision for women has been keener 
in the former country, and that a much larger number avail 
themselves of what has been provided. 

General Observations. — The European reader will by this 
time have perceived how hard it is to give such a general esti- 
mate of the educational and social worth of the higher teach- 
ing in the United States as one might give of the universities 
of Germany, England, and Scotland. In America the univer- 
sities are not, as they are in those countries, a well-defined 
class of institutions. Not only is the distance between the 
best and the worst greater than that which in Germany sepa- 
rates Leipzig from Rostock, or in England Cambridge from 
Durham, but the gradations from the best down to the worst 
are so imperceptible that one can nowhere draw a line and say 
that here the true university stops and the pretentious school 
begins. 2 As has been observed already, a large number present 

1 In 18S9-90 Wellesley had 660 students, with 79 professors and teachers (72 
women and 7 men), and $175,000 of productive funds. Smith College had 541 
students, 32 instructors (18 women and 14 men), and .S422,739 of productive 
funds. Vassar had 325 students, 35 instructors (27 women and 8 men), and 
8574,332 of productive funds. 

2 Even in Europe it is curious to note how each country is apt to think the 
universities of the other to he rather schools than universities. The Germans 
call Oxford and Cambridge schools, because they have hitherto given compar- 



THE UNIVERSITIES 001 



the external seeming and organization — the skeleton plan, so 
to speak — of a university with the actual performance of a 
rather raw school. 

Moreover, the American universities and colleges are in a 
state of transition. True, nearly everything in America is 
changing, the apparently inflexible Constitution not excepted. 
But the changes that are passing in the universities are only 
to be paralleled by those that pass upon Western cities. The 
number of small colleges, especially in the Mississippi and 
Pacific States, is increasing. The character of the Eastern 
universities is being constantly modified. The former multi- 
ply, because, under the Federal system, every State likes to 
have its own universities numerous, and its inhabitants inde- 
pendent of other States, even as respects education ; while the 
abundance of wealth, the desire of rich men to commemorate 
themselves and to benefit their community, and the rivalry of 
the churches, lead to the establishment of new colleges where 
none are needed, and where money would be better spent in 
improving those which exist. Individualism and laissez faire 
have, in this matter at least, free scope, for a State legislature is 
always ready to charter any number of new degree-giving bodies. 1 
Meanwhile, the great institutions of the Atlantic States con- 
tinue to expand and develop, not merely owing to the accre- 
tion of wealth to them from the liberality of benefactors, but 
because they are in close touch with Europe, resolved to bring 
their highest education up to the European level and to keep 
pace with the progress of science, filled with that love of 
experiment and spirit of enterprise which are so much stronger 
in America than anywhere else in the world. 

Not the least interesting of the phenomena of to-day is the 
struggle which goes on in the Middle and Western States 
between the greater, and especially the State universities, and 
the small denominational colleges. The latter, which used to 
have the field to themselves, are now afraid of being driven 

atively little professional and specialized teaching. The English call the 
Scotch universities schools because many of their students enter at fifteen. 

1 The New York legislature recently offered a charter to the Chautauqua 
gathering, oik: of the most interesting institutions in America, standing mid- 
way between a university and a camp-meeting, and representing both the 
religious spirit and the love of knowledge which characterize the better part 
of the native American masses. 



692 SOCIAL INSTITUTIONS part vi 

off it by the growth of the former, and are redoubling their 
exertions not only to increase their own resources and students, 
but — at least in some States — to prevent the State university 
from obtaining larger grants from the State treasury. They 
allege that the unsectarian character of the State establish- 
ments, as well as the freedom allowed to their students, makes 
them less capable of giving a moral and religious training. 
But as the graduates of the State universities become numer- 
ous in the legislatures and influential generally, and as it is 
more and more clearly seen that the small colleges cannot, for 
want of funds, provide the various appliances — libraries, 
museums, laboratories, and so forth — which universities need, 
the balance seems likely to incline in favour of the State uni- 
versities. It is probable that while these will rise towards the 
level of their Eastern sisters, many of the denominational 
colleges will subside into the position of places of preparatory 
training. 

One praise which has often been given to the universities of 
Scotland may be given to those of America. While the German 
universities have been popular but not free, while the English 
universities have been free 1 but not popular, the American 
universities have been both free and popular. Although some 
have been managed on too narrow a basis, the number has been 
so great that the community have not suffered. They have 
been established so easily, they have so fully reflected the 
habits and conditions of the people, as to have been accessible 
to every stratum of the population. They show all the merits 
and all the faults of a development absolutely uncontrolled by 
government, and little controlled even by the law which binds 
endowments down to the purposes fixed by a founder, 2 because 
new foundations were constantly rising, and new endowments 
were accruing to the existing foundations. Accordingly, while 
a European observer is struck by their inequalities and by 
the crudeness of many among thein, he is also struck by the 

1 Free as regards self-government in matters of education, for they were 
tightly hound by theological restrictions till a.d. 1871. 

2 The law of most American States has not yet recognized the necessity of 
providing proper methods for setting aside the dispositions made by founders 
when circumstances change or their regulations prove unsuitable. Endow- 
ments, if they continue to increase at their present rate, will become a very 
doubtful blessing unless this question is boldly dealt with. 



OHAP. cv THE UNIVERSITIES 09.J 



life, the spirit, the souse of progress, which pervade them. In 
America itself educational reformers arc apt to deplore the 
absence of control. They complain of the multiplication of 
degree-giving bodies, and consequent lowering of the worth of 
a degree. They point to the dissipation over more than thirty 
colleges, as in Ohio, of the funds and teaching power which 
might have produced one first-rate university. One strong 
institution in a State does more, they argue, to raise the 
standard of teaching and learning, and to civilize the region 
which it serves, than can be done by twenty weak ones. 

The European observer, while he admits this, conceives that 
his American friends may not duly realize the services which 
these small colleges perform in the rural districts of the coun- 
try. They get hold of a multitude of poor men, who might 
never resort to a distant place of education. They set learning 
in a visible form, plain, indeed, and humble, but dignified even 
in her humility, before the eyes of a rustic people, in whom 
the love of knowledge, naturally strong, might never break 
from the bud into the flower but for the care of some zealous 
gardener. They give the chance of rising in some intellectual 
walk of life to many a strong and earnest nature who might 
otherwise have remained an artisan or storekeeper, and per- 
haps failed in those avocations. They light up in many a coun- 
try town what is at first only a farthing rushlight, but which, 
when the town swells to a city, or when endowments flow in, 
or when some able teacher is placed in charge, becomes a lamp 
of growing flame, which may finally throw its rays over the 
whole State in which it stands. In some of these smaller 
Western colleges one finds to-day men of great ability and 
great attainments, one finds students who are receiving an 
education quite as thorough, though not always as wide, as the 
best Eastern universities can give. I do not at all deny that 
the time for more concentration has come, and that restrictions 
on the power of granting degrees would be useful. But one 
who recalls the history of the AVest during the last fifty years, 
and bears in mind the tremendous rush of ability and energy 
towards a purely material development which has marked its 
people, will feel that this uncontrolled freedom of teaching, 
this multiplication of small institutions, have done for the 
country a work which a few State-regulated universities might 



694 SOCIAL INSTITUTIONS part vi 

have failed to do. The higher learning is in no danger The 
great universities of the East, as well as one or two in the 
West, are already beginning to rival the ancient universities 
of Europe. They will soon have far greater funds at their 
command with which to move towards the same ideal as Ger- 
many sets before herself; and they have already what is 
better than funds — an ardour and industry among the teachers 
which equals that displayed fifty years ago in Germany by the 
foremost men of the generation which raised the German 
schools to their glorious pre-eminence. 

It may be thought that an observer familiar with two uni- 
versities which are among the oldest and most famous in 
Europe, and are beyond question the most externally sumptu- 
ous and beautiful, would be inclined to disparage the corre- 
sponding institutions of the United States, whose traditions 
are comparatively short;, and in whose outward aspect there is 
little to attract the eye or touch the imagination. I have not 
found it so. An Englishman who visits America can never 
feel sure how far his judgment has been affected by the 
warmth of the welcome he receives. But if I may venture to 
state the impression which the American universities have 
made upon me, I will say that while of all the institutions of 
the country they are those of which the Americans speak most 
modestly, and indeed deprecating^, they are those which 
seem to be at this moment making the swiftest progress, and 
to have the brightest promise for the future. They are supply- 
ing exactly those things which European critics have hitherto 
found lacking to America : and they are contributing to her 
political as well as to her contemplative life elements of 
inestimable worth. 



CHAPTER CVI 

THE CHURCHES AND THE CLERGY 

In examining the National government and the State gov- 
ernments we have never once had occasion to advert to any 
ecclesiastical body or question, because with such matters 
government has in the United States absolutely nothing to do. 
Of all the differences between the Old World and the New 
this is perhaps the most salient. Half the wars of Europe, 
half the internal troubles that have vexed European states, 
from the Monophysite controversies in the Roman Empire of 
the fifth century down to the Kulturkampf in the German 
Empire of the nineteenth, have arisen from theological differ- 
ences or from the rival claims of church and state. This whole 
vast chapter of debate and strife has remained virtually un- 
opened in the United States. There is no Established Church. 
All religious bodies are absolutely equal before the law, and 
unrecognized by the law, except as voluntary associations of 
private citizens. 

The Federal Constitution contains the following prohibi- 
tions : — 

Art. VI. No religious test shall ever be required as a qualification to 
any office or public trust under the United States. 

Amendment I. Congress shall make no law respecting an establish- 
ment of religion or prohibiting the free exercise thereof 

No attempt has ever been made to alter or infringe upon 
these provisions. They affect the National government only, 
placing no inhibition on the States, and leaving the whole 
subject to their uncontrolled discretion, though subject to the 
general guarantees against oppression. 

Every State constitution contains provisions generally simi- 
lar to the above. Most declare that every man may worship 



696 SOCIAL INSTITUTIONS part vi 

God according to his own conscience, or that the free enjoy- 
ment of all religious sentiments and forms of worship shall be 
held sacred; 1 most also provide that no man shall be com- 
pelled to support or attend any church; some forbid the crea- 
tion of an established church, and many the showing of a 
preference to any particular sect; while many provide that no 
money shall ever be drawn from the State treasury, or from 
the funds of any municipal body, to be applied for the benefit 
of any church or sectarian institution or denominational school. 
Thirty-three constitutions, including those of the six new 
States, forbid any religious test to be required as a qualifica- 
tion for office ; some declare that this principle extends to all 
civil rights ; some specify that religious belief is not to affect 
a man's competence as a witness. But in several States there 
still exist qualifications worth noting. Vermont and Dela- 
ware declare that every sect ought to maintain some form of 
religious worship, and Vermont adds that it ought to observe 
the Lord's Day. Six Southern States exclude from office any 
one who denies the existence of a Supreme Being. Besides 
these six, Pennsylvania and Tennessee pronounce a man in- 
eligible for office who does not believe in God and in a future 
state of rewards and punishments. Maryland and Arkansas 
even make such a person incompetent as a juror or witness. 2 
Religious freedom has been generally thought of in America 
in the form of freedom and equality as between different sorts 
of Christians, or at any rate different sorts of theists ; persons 
opposed to religion altogether have till recently been ex- 
tremely few everywhere and practically unknown in the South. 
The neutrality of the State cannot therefore be said to be 
theoretically complete. 3 

In earlier days the States were very far from being neutral. 
Those of New England, except Bhode Island, began with a 
sort of Puritan theocracy, and excluded from some civil rights 

1 Four States provide that this declaration is not to be taken to excuse 
breaches of the public peace, many that it shall uot excuse acts of licentious- 
ness, or justify practices inconsistent with the peace and safety of the State, 
and three that no person shall disturb others in their religious worship. 

2 Full details on these points will be found in Mr. Stimson's valuable collec- 
tion entitled American Statute Laic. 

3 Nevada and Idaho have recently disfranchised all Mormons resident 
Avithin their respective bounds ; but Mormonism is attacked not so much as a 
religion as in respect of its social features and hierarchical character. 



ohap.ot] THE CHURCHES AM) THE CLERGY 099 

persons who stood outside the religious community. Congre- 
gationalism was the ruling Eaith, and Roman Catholics, Quak- 
ers, ami Baptists were treated wiih great severity. The early 
constitutions of several States recognized what was virtually 

a State church, requiring each locality to provide for and sup- 
port the public worship of God. It was not till 1818 that 
Connecticut in adopting her new constitution placed all relig- 
ious bodies (m a level, and left the maintenance of churches to 
the voluntary action of the faithful. In Massachusetts a tax 
for the support of the Congregationalist churches was imposed 
on all citizens not belonging to some other incorporated relig- 
ious body until 1811, and religious equality was first fully 
. uzed by a constitutional amendment of 1833. In Virginia, 
Xorth and South Carolina, and Maryland, Protestant Episco- 
pacy was the established form of religion till the Revolution, 
when under the impulse of the democratic spirit, and all the 
more heartily because the Anglican clergy were prone to 
Toryism (as attachment to the British connection was called), 
and because, at least in Virginia, there had been some per- 
secution of Nonconformists, all religious distinctions were 
abolished and special ecclesiastical privileges withdrawn. 
In Pennsylvania no church was ever legally established. In 
New York, however, first the Dutch Reformed, and afterwards 
the Anglican Church had in colonial days enjoyed a measure 
of State favour. What is remarkable is that in all these cases 
the disestablishment, if one may call it by that name, of the 
privileged church was accomplished with no great effort, and 
left very little rancour behind. In the South it seemed a 
natural outcome of the Revolution. In New England it came 
more gradually, as the necessary result of the political devel- 
opment of each commonwealth. The ecclesiastical arrange- 
ments of the States were not inwoven with the pecuniary 
interests of any wealthy or socially dominant class; and it 
was felt that equality and democratic doctrine generally were 
too palpably opposed to the maintenance of any privileges in 
religious matters to be defensible in argument. However, 
both in Connecticut and Massachusetts there was a political 
struggle over the process of disestablishment, and the Con- 
gregationalist ministers predicted evils from a change which 
they afterwards admitted to have turned out a blessing to their 



698 SOCIAL INSTITUTIONS part vi 



own churches. No voice has ever since been raised in favour 
of reverting — I will not say to a State establishment of re- 
ligion — but even to any State endowment, or State regula- 
tion of ecclesiastical bodies. It is accepted as an axiom by 
all Americans that the civil power ought to be not only neutral 
and impartial as between different forms of faith, but ought 
to leave these matters entirely on one side, regarding them no 
more than it regards the artistic or literary pursuits of the 
citizens. 1 There seem to be no two opinions on this subject 
in the United States. Even the Protestant Episcopalian 
clergy, who are in many ways disposed to admire and envy 
their brethren in England; even the Roman Catholic bishops, 
whose creed justifies the enforcement of the true faith by the 
secular arm, assure the European visitor that if State estab- 
lishment were offered them they would decline it, preferring 
the freedom they enjoy to any advantages the State could con- 
fer. Every religious community can now organize itself in 
whatever way it pleases, lay down its own rules of faith and 
discipline, create and administer its own system of judicature, 
raise and apply its funds at its uncontrolled discretion. A 
church established by the State would not be able to do all 
these things, because it would also be controlled by the State, 
and it would be exposed to the envy and jealousy of other 
sects. 

The only controversies that have arisen regarding State 
action in religious matters have turned upon the appropriation 
of public funds to charitable institutions managed by some 
particular denomination. Such appropriations are expressly 
prohibited in the constitutions of some States. But it may 
happen that the readiest way of promoting some benevolent 
public purpose is to make a grant of money to an institution 
already at work, and successfully serving that purpose. As 
this reason may sometimes be truly given, so it is also some- 
times advanced where the real motive is to purchase the politi- 
cal support of the denomination to which the institution 
belongs, or at least of its clergy. In some States, and par- 

1 There is, however, and has for some time been, a movement, led, I think, 
by some Baptist and Methodist ministers, for obtaining the insertion of the 
name of God in the Federal Constitution. Those who desire this appear to 
hold that the instrument would be thereby in a manner sanctified, and a dis- 
tinct national recognition of theism expressed. 



chap, cm THE CHURCHES AND THE CLERGY G9t) 

ticularly in New York, State or city legislatures are often 
charged with giving money to Roman Catholic institutions 
for the sake of securing the Catholic vote. 1 In these cases, 
however, the money always purports to be voted not for a 
religious but for a philanthropic or educational purpose. No 
ecclesiastical body would be strong enough to obtain any grant 
to its general funds, or any special immunity for its ministers. 
The passion for equality in religious as well as secular mat- 
ters is everywhere in America far too strong to be braved, and 
nothing excites more general disapprobation than any attempt 
by an ecclesiastical organization to interfere in politics. The 
suspicion that the Roman Catholic church uses its power over 
its members to guide their votes for its purposes has more 
than once given rise to strong anti-Catholic or (as they would 
be called in Canada) Orange movements, such as that which 
has recently figured so largely in Ohio, Indiana, Michigan, 
and Illinois under the name of the American Protective 
Association. So the hostility to Mormonism was due not 
merely to the practice of polygamy, but also to the notion that 
the hierarchy of the Latter Day Saints constitutes a secret and 
tyrannical imperium in imperio opposed to the genius of demo- 
cratic institutions. 

The refusal of the civil power to protect or endow any form 
of religion is commonly represented in Europe as equivalent 
to a declaration of contemptuous indifference on the part of 
the State to the spiritual interests of its people. A State 
recognizing no church is called a godless State; the disestab- 
lishment of a church is described as an act of national impiety. 
Nothing can be farther from the American view, to an expla- 
nation of which it may be well to devote a few lines. 

The abstention of the State from interference in matters of 
faith and worship may be advocated on two principles, which 
maybe called the political and the religious. The former sets 
out from the principles of liberty and equality. It holds any 
attempt at compulsion by the civil power to be an infringe- 
ment on liberty of thought, as well as on liberty of action, 
which could be justified only when a practice claiming to be 

1 In 1S70 the Roman Catholic schools and charities of New York received 
more than $400,000 (£80,000) ; about $72,000 were then also given to other 
denominational institutions. 



700 SOCIAL INSTITUTIONS part vi 

religious is so obviously auti-social or immoral as to threaten 
the well-being of the community. Religious persecution, even 
in its milder forms, such as disqualifying the members of a 
particular sect for public office, is, it conceives, inconsistent 
with the conception of individual freedom and the respect due 
to the primordial rights of the citizen which modern thought 
has embraced. Even if State action stops short of the im- 
position of disabilities, and confines itself to favouring a par- 
ticular church, whether by grants of money or by giving special 
immunities to its clergy, this is an infringement on equality, 
putting one man at a disadvantage compared with others in 
respect of matters which are (according to the view I am stat- 
ing) not fit subjects for State cognizance. 

The second principle, embodying the more purely religious 
view of the question, starts from the conception of the church 
as a spiritual body existing for spiritual purposes, and moving 
along spiritual paths. It is an assemblage of men who are 
united by their devotion to an unseen Being, their memory of 
a past divine life, their belief in the possibility of imitating 
that life, so far as human frailty allows, their hopes for an 
illimitable future. Compulsion of any kind is contrary to the 
nature of such a body, which lives by love and reverence, not 
by law. It desires no State help, feeling that its strength 
comes from above, and that its kingdom is not of this world. 
It does not seek for exclusive privileges, conceiving that these 
would not only create bitterness between itself and other 
religious bodies, but might attract persons who did not really 
share its sentiments, while corrupting the simplicity of those 
who are already its members. Least of all can it submit to 
be controlled by the State, for the State, in such a world as 
the present, means persons many or most of whom are alien 
to its beliefs and cold to its emotions. The conclusion follows 
that the church as a spiritual entity will be happiest and 
strongest when it is left absolutely to itself, not patronized by 
the civil power, not restrained by law except when and in so 
far as it may attempt to quit its proper sphere and inter- 
meddle in secular affairs. 

Of these two views it is the former much more than the 
latter that has moved the American mind. The latter would 
doubtless be now generally accepted by religious people. But 



OHAP.OYi THE CHURCHES AND THE CLERGY 701 

when fche question arose in a practical shape in the earlier 
days of the Republic, arguments of the former or political 
order were found amply sufficient to settle it, and no practical 
purpose has since then compelled men either to examine the 
spiritual basis of the church, or to inquire by the light of his- 
tory how far State action has during fifteen centuries helped 
or marred her usefulness. There has, however, been another 
cause at work, I mean the comparatively limited conception 
of the State itself which Americans have formed. The State 
is not to them, as to Germans or Frenchmen, and even to some 
English thinkers, an ideal moral power, charged with, the duty 
of forming the characters and guiding the lives of its subjects. 
It is more like a commercial company, or perhaps a huge 
municipality created for the management of certain business 
in which all who reside within its bounds are interested, 
levying contributions and expending them on this business of 
common interest, but for the most part leaving the share- 
holders or burgesses to themselves. That an organization of 
this kind should trouble itself, otherwise than as matter of 
police, with the opinions or conduct of its members, would be 
as unnatural as for a railway company to inquire how many of 
the shareholders were total abstainers. Accordingly it never 
occurs to the average American that there is any reason why 
State churches should exist, and he stands amazed at the 
warmth of European feeling on the matter. 

Just because these questions have been long since disposed 
of, and excite no present passion, and perhaps also because 
the Americans are more practically easy-going than pedanti- 
cally exact, the National government and the State govern- 
ments do give to Christianity a species of recognition incon- 
sistent with the view that civil government should be absolutely 
neutral in religious matters. Each House of Congress has 
a chaplain, and opens its proceedings each day with prayers. 
The President annually after the end of harvest issues a proc- 
lamation ordering a general thanksgiving, and occasionally 
appoints a day of fasting and humiliation. So prayers are 
offered in the State legislatures, 1 and State governors issue 
proclamations for days of religious observance. Congress in 

1 Though Michigan and Oregon forbid any appropriation of State funds for 

religious services. 



702 SOCIAL INSTITUTIONS part vi 

the crisis of the Civil War (July, 1863) requested the Presi- 
dent to appoint a day for humiliation and prayer. In the 
army and navy provision is made for religious services, con- 
ducted by chaplains of various denominations, and no diffi- 
culty seems to have been found in reconciling their claims. 
In most States there exist laws punishing blasphemy or profane 
swearing by the name of God (laws which, however, are in 
some places openly transgressed and in few or none enforced), 
laws restricting or forbidding trade or labour on the Sabbath, 
as well as laws protecting assemblages for religious purposes, 
such as camp-meetings or religious processions, from being 
disturbed. The Bible is (in most States) read in the public 
State-supported schools, and though controversies have arisen 
on this head, the practice is evidently in accord with the gen- 
eral sentiment of the people. 

The matter may be summed up by saying that Christianity 
is in fact understood to be, though not the legally established 
religion, yet the national religion. 1 So far from thinking their 
commonwealth godless, the Americans conceive that the relig- 
ious character of a government consists in nothing but the re- 
ligious belief of the individual citizens, and the conformity of 
their conduct to that belief. They deem the general acceptance 
of Christianity to be one of the main sources of their national 
prosperity, and their nation a special object of the Divine 
favour. 

The legal position of a Christian church is in the United 
States simply that of a voluntary association, or group of asso- 
ciations, corporate or unincorporate, under the ordinary law. 
There is no such thing as a special ecclesiastical law; all 
questions, not only of property but of church discipline and 
jurisdiction, are, if brought before the courts of the land, 
dealt with as questions of contract ; 2 and the court, where it 
is obliged to examine a question of theology, as for instance 

1 It has often been said that Christianity is a part of the common law of the 
States, as it has been said to be of the common law of England ; but on this 
point there have been discrepant judicial opinions, nor can it be said to find 
any specific practical application. A discussion of it may be found in Justice 
Story's opinion in the famous Girard will case. 

2 Or otherwise as questions of private civil law. Actions for damages are 
sometimes brought against ecclesiastical authorities by persons deeming them- 
selves to have been improperly accused or disciplined or deprived of the enjoy- 
ment of property. 



ciiai. rvi THE CHURCHES AND THE CLERGY 703 

whether a clergyman has advanced opinions inconsistent with 
any creed or formula to which he has bound himself — for it 
will prefer, if possible, to leave such matters to the proper 
ecclesiastical authority — will treat the point as one of pure 
legal interpretation, neither assuming to itself theological 
knowledge, nor suffering considerations of policy to inter- 
vene. 1 

As a rule, every religious body can organize itself in any 
way it pleases. The State does not require its leave to be 
asked, but permits any form of church government, any eccle- 
siastical order, to be created and endowed, any method to be 
adopted of vesting church property, either simply in trustees 
or in corporate bodies formed either under the general law of 
the State or under some special statute. Sometimes a limit 
is imposed on the amount of property, or of real estate, which 
an ecclesiastical corporation can hold; but, on the whole, it 
may be said that the civil power manifests no jealousy of 
the spiritual, but allows the latter a perfectly free field for 
expansion. Of course if any ecclesiastical authority were to 
become formidable either by its wealth or by its control over 
the members of its body, this easy tolerance would disappear ; 
all I observe is that the difficulties often experienced, and still 
more often feared, in Europe, from the growth of organizations 
exercising tremendous spiritual powers, have in the United 
States never proved serious. 2 No church has anywhere a 
power approaching that of the Eoman Catholic Church in 
Lower Canada. Eeligious bodies are in so far the objects of 
special favour that their property is in most States exempt 
from taxation ; and this is reconciled to theory by the argu- 
ment that they are serviceable as moral agencies, and diminish 
the expenses incurred in respect of police administration. 3 

1 The Emperor Aurelian decided in a like neutral spirit a question that had 
arisen between two Christian churches. 

2 Occasionally a candidate belonging to a particular denomination receives 
some sympathetic support from its members. In a recent State election in 
Arkansas, as one candidate for the Governorship had been a Baptist minister 
and the other a Methodist presiding elder, and four-fifths of the voters be- 
longed to one or other denomination, each received a good deal of denomina- 
tional adhesion. 

8 In his message of 1881 the Governor of Washington Territory recommended 
the legislature to exempt church property from taxation, not only on the ground 
that -'churches and schoolhouses are the temples of education, and alike con- 



704 SOCIAL INSTITUTIONS part vi 

Two or three States impose restrictions on the creation of 
religious corporations, and one, Maryland, requires the sanc- 
tion of the legislature to dispositions of property to religious 
uses. But, speaking generally, religious bodies are the objects 
of legislative favour. 1 

I pass on to say a few words as to the religious bodies of 
the country. 2 

In the eleventh census (1890) an attempt was made to ob- 
tain from each of these bodies full statistics regarding its 
numbers and the value of its property. The results, which I 
take from the bulletins and abstracts of that census, were, as 
respects the denominations whose membership exceeds 500,000 
persons, as follows : — 



Roman Catholics 


. 6,250,0453 


Methodists (17 bodies) 


. 4,589,284 


Baptists (13 bodies) . 


. 3,712,468 


Presbyterians (12 bodies) . 


. 1,278,332 


Lutherans (16 bodies) 


. 1,231,072 


Disciples of Christ 


641,051 


Protestant Episcopalians . 


540,509 


Congregationalists 


512,771* 



Besides these eight bodies the Jews are returned as having 
130,496 members (only heads of families, however, being 
reckoned), the Friends 107,208, the Spiritualists 45,030, and 
eight communistic societies (including the so-called Shakers) 
only 4049. The total number of persons returned as commu- 
nicants or members of all the churches is 20,612,806. 

Of the above-mentioned denominations, or rather groups, for 
most of them include numerous minor denominations, the 

duce to the cultivation of peace, happiness, and prosperity," but also because 
"churches enhance the value of contiguous property, which, were they abol- 
ished, would be of less value and return less revenue." 

1 New Hampshire has lately taxed churches on the value of their real estate 
exceeding #10,000 (£2000) . 

2 An interesting and impartial summary view of tbe history of the chief 
denominations in the United States may be found in Dr. George P. Fisher's 
History of the Christian Church, pp. 559-582. 

3 All baptized Roman Catholics over nine years of age are treated as mem- 
bers. 

4 The total number of ministers of all denominations is returned at 111,036, 
the total value of church sites and buildings (including 47 Chinese temples) at 
$679,630,139. 



CHAP.CTl THE CHURCHES AND THE CLERGY 705 

Methodists and Baptists are numerous everywhere, but the 
Methodists especially numerous in the South, where they have 
been the chief evangelizers of the negroes, and in the Middle 
States, New York. Pennsylvania, Ohio, Indiana, Illinois. Of 
the Congregationalism nearly one-half are to be found in Xew 
England, the rest in such parts of the Middle and Western 
States as have been peopled from Xew England. The Presby- 
terians are strongest in Pennsylvania, Xew York, Ohio, Xew 
Jersey, and in the older Southern States, 1 especially Virginia 
and Xorth Carolina, States where many Scoto-Irish emigrants 
settled, but are well represented over the West also. Of the 
Lutherans nearly one-half are Germans and one-quarter Scan- 
dinavians, including Icelanders and Finns. The Protestant 
Episcopalians are strongest in Xew York (which supplies one- 
fourth of their total number), Pennsylvania, Xew Jersey, and 
Massachusetts. There are fifty-two dioceses and seventy-five 
bishops; no archbishop, the supreme authority being vested in 
a convention which meets triennially. The Unitarians (in all 
67.749 with 459 ministers) are very few outside Xew England 
and the regions settled from Xew England, but have exercised 
an influence far beyond that of their numbers owing to the 
eminence of some of their divines, such as Channing, Emer- 
son, and Theodore Parker, and to the fact that they include a 
large number of highly cultivated men. The Eoman Catho- 
lics are, except in Maryland and Louisiana, nearly all either 
of Irish, German, Slavonic, or French-Canadian extraction. 
They abound everywhere, except in the South and some parts 
of the Xorth-west, and are perhaps, owing to the influx of Irish 
and French-Canadians, most relatively numerous in Xew Eng- 
land. The great development of the Lutheran bodies is of 
course due to German and Scandinavian immigration. Of all 
denominations the Jews have increased most rapidly, viz. at 
the rate of 160 per cent for the ten years, 1880-1890. The 
State with fewest is Xorth Carolina. Of the Orthodox Jews, 
who are returned as being to the Keformed in the proportion 
of two to three, half are in Xew r York. 

All these phenomena find an easy historical explanation. 

1 The strength of Presbyterianism in the South is probably due in part to 
the immigration into those States of Ulstermen in the middle of last century, 
and of settlers from Holland at a still earlier date. 

VOL. II 2 Z 



706 SOCIAL INSTITUTIONS part vi 

The churches of the United States are the churches of the 
British Isles, modified by recent immigration from the Euro- 
pean continent. Each race has, as a rule, adhered to the form 
of religion it held in Europe; and where denominations com- 
paratively small in England have, like the Methodists and 
Baptists, swelled to vast proportions here, it is because the 
social conditions under which they throve in England were 
here reproduced on a far larger scale. In other words, the 
causes which have given their relative importance and their 
local distribution to American denominations have been racial 
and social rather than ecclesiastical. ]No new religious forces 
have sprung up on American soil to give a new turn to her 
religious history. The breaking up of large denominations 
into smaller religious bodies seems to be due, partly to immi- 
gration, which has introduced slightly diverse elements, 
partly to the tendency to relax the old dogmatic stringency, 
a tendency which has been found to operate as a fissile force. 
It need hardly be said that there exist no such social dis- 
tinctions between different denominations as those of England. 
No clergyman, no layman, either looks down uidou or looks up 
to any other clergj'man or layman in respect of his worship- 
ping God in another way. The Koman Catholic church of 
course stands aloof from the Protestant Christians, whom she 
considers schismatic; and although what is popularly called 
the doctrine of apostolic succession is less generally deemed 
vital by Protestant Episcopalians in America than it has come 
to be by them of late years in England, the clergy of that 
church seldom admit to their pulpits pastors of other churches, 
though they sometimes appear in the pulpits of those churches. 
Such exchanges of pulpit are common among Presb}*terians, 
Congregationalists, and other orthodox Protestant bodies. In 
many parts of the Xorth and West the Protestant Episcopal 
church has long been slightly more fashionable than its sister 
churches ; and people who have no particular " religious prefer- 
ences," but wish to stand well socially, will sometimes add 
themselves to it. 1 In the South, however, Presbyterianism 

1 The proposal which has heen more than once made in the annual conven- 
tion of the Protestant Episcopal church, that it should call itself " The National 
Church of America," has been always rejected by the good sense of the major- 
ity, who perceive that an assumption of this kind would provoke much dis- 
pleasure from other bodies of Christians. 



OKAr.cn THE CHURCHES AND THE CLERGY 

(and in some places Meth< equally well from 

a worldly point of view; while everywhei trength of 

Mietfa 1 Baptists and R :i the 

mass - pie. 1 

Of late years proposals for union between some of the lead- 
ing Protestant churches, and especially 
terians an nationalists and Lutherans, have been I 

canvassed. They wit:. 5S growing good feeling among the 

clergy, and growing indifference to minor points of doctrine and 
church government. The vested interests of the existing clergy 
create some difficulties serious in small towns and country 
districts; but it seems possible that before many years more 
than one such union will be carried through. 

The social standing of the clergy of each church corresponds 
pretty closely to the character of the church itself — that is to 
say. the pastors of the Presbyterian. Congregationalism Episco- 
palian, and Unitarian bodies come generally from a higher 
social stratum than those of other more numerous denomina- 
tions. The former are almost universally graduates of some 
university or college, have there mixed with other young men 
belonging to the better families of the place where they reside, 
and have obtained that university -tamp which is much prized 
in America. As in Great Britain, comparatively few are the 
sons of the wealthy; and few come from the working classes. 
The position of a minister of the Gospel always carries with it 
some dignity — that is to say. it gives a man a certain advan- 
tage in the society, whatever it may be, to which he naturally 
belongs in respect of his family connections, his means, and 
lucation. In the great cities the leading ministers of the 
chief denominations; including the Eoman Catholic and Prot- 
estant Episcopal bishops, whether they be eminent as preachers 
or as active philanthropists, or in respect of their learning, 
are among the first citizens, and exercise an influence often 
wider and more powerful than that of any layman. Possibly 
no man in the United States, since President Lincoln, has been 
so warmly admired and so widely mourned as the late Dr. 
Phillips Brook-. In cities of the second order, the clergymen 

1 The Methodists and Baptists are said to make more use of social means in 
the work <>{ evangelizing the masses, and to adapt themselves more perfectly 
to democratic ideas than do the other Protestant bodies. 



708 SOCIAL INSTITUTIONS part vi 

of these denominations, supposing them (as is usually the case) 
to be men of good breeding and personally acceptable, move in 
the best society of the place. Similarly in country places the 
pastor is better educated and more enlightened than the average 
members of his flock, and becomes a leader in works of benefi- 
cence. The level of education and learning is rising among 
the clergy with the steady improvement of the universities. 
This advance is perhaps most marked among those denomina- 
tions which, like the Methodists and Baptists, have heretofore 
lagged behind, because their adherents were mostly among the 
poor. So far as I could learn, the incomes of the clergy are 
also increasing. The highest are those received by the Presby- 
terian and Congregationalist pastors in the great cities, which 
run from $8000 up to $15,000, and by the Protestant Epis- 
copal bishops ($3300 up to $12,500). Eoman Catholic bishops, 
being celibate and with poorer flocks, have from $3000 to 
$5000; Methodist bishops usually $5000, with travelling ex- 
penses. In the wealthier denominations there are many city 
ministers whose incomes exceed $3000, while in small towns 
and rural districts few fall below $1000; in the less wealthy 
$1500 for a city and $700 for a rural charge may be a fair 
average as regards the North and West. The average salary 
of a Eoman Catholic priest is given at $800. x To the sums 
regularly paid must be added in many cases a residence, and 
in nearly all various gifts and fees which the minister receives. 

These figures, which, however, must be a little reduced for 
the Southern States, compare favourably with the incomes 
received by the clergy in England or Scotland, and are of 
course much above the salaries paid to priests in France or to 
Protestant pastors in Germany. Eeckoning in the clergy of 
all denominations in Great Britain and in the United States, 
I think that, so far as it is possible to strike an average, both 
the pecuniary and the social position of the American clergy 
must be pronounced slightly better. 

Although the influence of the clergy is still great it has 

1 Most of these figures are drawn from an interesting article in the Forum 
for August, 1891, by Mr. H. K. Carroll, acting superintendent of the census. 
See also an article by the same judicious authority in the Forum for June, 
1892. Some instructive remarks on the relation of the universities to the 
clergy may be found in an article by Mr. F. G. Peabody in the same magazine 
for September, 1891. 



chap, cvi THE CHURCHES AND THE CLERGY 709 

changed its nature, yielding to the universal current which 
makes for equality. At the beginning of the century the New- 
England ministers enjoyed a loc^xl authority not unlike that of 
the bishops in Western Europe in the sixth century or of the 
Presbyterian ministers of Scotland in the seventeenth. They 
were, especially in country places, the leaders as well as 
instructors of their congregations, and were a power in politics 
scarcely less than in spiritual affairs. 1 That order of things 
has quite passed away. His profession and his education still 
secure respect for a clergyman, 2 but he must not now interfere 
in politics; he must not speak on any secular subject ex 
cathedra; his influence, whatever it may be, is no longer official 
but can only be that of a citizen distinguished by his talents or 
character, whose office gives him no greater advantage than that 
of an eminence where shining gifts may be more widely visible. 
Xow and then this rule of abstention from politics is broken 
through. Mr. Henry Ward Beecher took the field as a Mug- 
wump in the presidential campaign of 1884, and was deemed 
the more courageous in doing so because the congregation of 
Plymouth Church were mostly "straight out" Republicans. 
The Eoman Catholic bishops are sometimes accused of lending 
secret aid to the political party which will procure subventions 
for their schools and charities, and do no doubt, as indeed their 
doctrines require, press warmly the claims of denominational 
education. But otherwise they also abstain from politics. Such 
action as is constantly taken in England by ministers of the 
Established Church on the one side of politics, by Noncon- 
formist ministers on the other, would in America excite dis- 
approval. It is only on platforms or in conventions where some 
moral cause is to be advocated, such as Abolitionism was thirty 

1 In some States clergymen are still declared ineligible, by tbe constitution, 
as members of a State legislature. They do not seem to have in the early days 
sat in these bodies ; and they very rarely sit in Congress, but one finds them in 
conventions. Some of the best speeches in the Massachusetts Convention of 
1788 which ratified the Federal Constitution were made by ministers. In New 
England, they were all or nearly all advocates of the Constitution, and passed 
into the Federalist party. 

2 The clergy are the objects of a good deal of favour in various small ways ; 
for instance, they often receive free passes on railroads, and the Inter-State 
Commerce Act of 1887, while forbidding the system of granting free passes, 
which had been much abused, specially exempted clergymen from the prohibi- 
tion. Their children are usually educated at lower fees, or even gratis, in 
colleges, and storekeepers often allow them a discount. 



710 SOCIAL INSTITUTIONS part vi 

years ago or temperance is now, that clergymen can with 
impunity appear. 

Considering that the absence of State interference in matters 
of religion is one of the most striking differences between all 
the European countries on the one hand and the United States 
on the other, the European reader may naturally expect some 
further remarks on the practical results of this divergence. 
"There are," he will say, "two evil consequences with which 
the European defenders of established churches seek to terrify 
us when disestablishment and disendowment are mentioned, 
one that the authority and influence of religion will wane if 
State recognition is withdrawn, the other that the incomes of 
the clergy and their social status will sink, that they will in 
fact become plebeians, and that the centres of light which now 
exist in every country parish will be extinguished. There are 
also two benefits which the advocates of the Tree Church in a 
Eree State ' promise us, one that social jealousies and bitter- 
nesses between different sects will melt away, and the other 
that the church will herself become more spiritual in her 
temper and ideas, more earnest in her proper work of moral 
reform and the nurture of the soul. What has American ex- 
perience to say on these four points? " 

These are questions so pertinent to a right conception of the 
ecclesiastical side of American life that I cannot decline the 
duty of trying to answer them, though reluctant to tread on 
ground to which European conflicts give a controversial char- 
acter. 

I. To estimate the influence and authority of religion is not 
easy. Suppose, however, that we take either the habit of 
attending church or the sale of religious books as evidences of 
its influence among the multitude : suppose that as regards the 
more cultivated classes we look at the amount of respect paid 
to Christian precepts and ministers, the interest taken in theo- 
logical questions, the connection of philanthropic reforms with 
religion. Adding these various data together, we may get some 
sort of notion of the influence of religion on the American 
people as a whole. 

Purposing to touch on these points in the chapter next fol- 
lowing, I will here only say by way of anticipation that in all 
these respects the influence of Christianity seems to be, if we 



ORAP. ovi THE CHURCHES AND THE CLERGY 711 

look not merely to the numbers but also to the intelligence of 
the persons influenced, greater and more widespread in the 
United States than in any part of western Continental Europe, 
and T think greater than in England. In France, Italy, Spain, 
and the Catholic parts of Germany, as well as in German 
Austria, the authority of religion over the masses is of course 
great. Its influence on the best educated classes — one must 
include all parts of society in order to form a fair judgment — 
is apparently smaller, in France and Italy than in Great Britain, 
and I think distinctly smaller than in the United States. The 
country which most resembles America in this respect is Scot- 
land, where the mass of the people enjoy large rights in the 
management of their church affairs, and where the interest of 
all classes has, ever since the Reformation, tended to run in 
ecclesiastical channels. So far from suffering from the want 
of State support, religion seems in the United States to stand 
all the firmer because, standing alone, she is seen to stand by 
her own strength. No political party, no class in the com- 
munity, has any hostility either to Christianity or to any 
particular Christian body. The churches are as thoroughly 
popular, in the best sense of the word, as any of the other 
institutions of the country. 

II. The social and economic position of the clergy in the 
United States is above that of the priesthood, taken as a whole, 
in Roman Catholic countries, and of all denominations, Aneli- 
can and Nonconformist, in England. No American pastors 
enjoy such revenues as the prelates of England and Hungary; 
but the average income attached to the pastoral office is in 
America larger. The peculiar conditions of England, where 
one church looks down socially on the others, make a compari- 
son in other respects difficult. The education of the American 
ministers, their manners, their capacity for spreading light 
among the people, seem superior to those of the seminarist 
priesthood of France and Italy (who are of course far more of 
a distinct caste) and equal to those of the Protestant pastors of 
Germany and Scotland. 

III. Social jealousies connected with religion scarcely exist 
in America, and one notes a kindlier feeling between all 
denominations, Roman Catholics included, a greater readiness 
to work together for common charitable aims, than between 



712 SOCIAL INSTITUTIONS *>art vi 

Catholics and Protestants in France or Germany, or between 
Anglicans and Nonconformists in England. There is a rivalry 
between the leading denominations to extend their bounds, to 
erect and fill new churches, to raise great sums for church 
purposes. But it is a friendly rivalry, which does not provoke 
bad blood, because the State stands neutral, and all churches 
have a free field. There is much less mutual exclusiveness 
than in any other country, except perhaps Scotland. An 
instance may be found in the habit of exchanging pulpits, 
another in the comparative frequency with which persons pass 
from one denomination to another, if a particular clergyman 
attracts them, or if they settle in a place distant from a church 
of their own body. One often finds members of the same 
family belonging to different denominations. Some of the 
leading bodies, and especially the Presbyterians and Congre- 
gationalists, between whose doctrines there exists practically 
no difference, have been wont, especially in the West, to 
co-operate for the sake of efficiency and economy in agreeing 
not to plant two rival churches in a place where one will 
suffice, but to arrange that one denomination shall set up its 
church, and the other advise its adherents to join and support 
that church. 

IV. To give an opinion on the three foregoing questions is 
incomparably easier than to say whether and how much Chris- 
tianity has gained in spiritual purity and dignity by her 
severance from the secular power. 

There is a spiritual gain in that diminution of envy, malice, 
and uncharitableness between the clergy of various sects which 
has resulted from their being all on the same legal level ; and 
the absence both of these faults and of the habit of bringing 
ecclesiastical questions into secular politics, gives the enemy 
less occasion to blaspheme than he is apt to have in Europe. 
Church assemblies — synods, conferences, and conventions — 
seem on the whole to be conducted with better temper and more 
good sense than these bodies have shown in the Old World, 
from the Council of Ephesus down to and in our own day. 
But in America as elsewhere some young men enter the clerical 
profession from temporal motives ; some laymen join a church 
to improve their social or even their business position; some 
country pastors look out for city cures, and justify their leaving 



chat, cm THE CHURCHES AND TI1K CLERGY 713 

a poorer Bock for a richer by talking of a wider sphere of use- 
fulness. The iles ire to push the progress of the particular 
church or of the denomination often mingles with the desire to 
preach the gospel more widely; and the gospel is sometimes 
preached, if not with " respect of persons " yet with less faith- 
ful insistence on unpalatable truths than the moral health of 
the community requires. 

So far as I could ascertain, the dependence of the minister 
for his support on his congregation does not lower him in their 
eyes, nor make him more apt to flatter the leading members 
than he is in established churches. If he is personally digni- 
fied and unselfish, his independence will be in no danger. But 
whether the voluntary system, which no doubt makes men 
more liberal in giving for the support of religious ordinances 
among themselves and of missions elsewhere, tends to quicken 
spiritual life, and to keep the church pure and undefiled, free 
from the corrupting influences of the world, is another matter, 
on which a stranger may well hesitate to speak. Those Ameri- 
cans whose opinion I have inquired are unanimous in holding 
that in this respect also the fruits of freedom have been good. 



CHAPTER CVII 

THE INFLUENCE OF RELIGION 

To convey some impression of the character and type which 
religion has taken in America, and to estimate its influence as 
a moral and spiritual force, is an infinitely harder task than 
to sketch the salient ecclesiastical phenomena of the country. 
I approach it with the greatest diffidence, and do not profess 
to give anything more than the sifted result of answers to 
questions addressed to many competent observers belonging 
to various churches or to none. 

An obviously important point to determine is the extent 
to which the external ministrations of religion are supplied to 
the people and used by them. This is a matter on which 
no trustworthy statistics seem attainable, but on which the 
visitor's own eyes leave him in little doubt. There are 
churches everywhere, and everywhere equally: in the cities 
and in the country, in the North and in the South, in the quiet 
nooks of New England, in the settlements which have sprung 
up along railroads in the West. It is only in the very rough- 
est parts of the West, and especially in the region of mining 
camps, that they are wanting, and the want is but temporary, 
for " home missionary " societies are quickly in the field, and 
provide the ministrations of religion even to this migratory 
population. In many a town of moderate size one finds a 
church for every thousand inhabitants, as was the case with 
Dayton, in Ohio, which, when it had 40,000 people, had just 
forty churches. 

Denominational rivalry has counted for something in the 
rapid creation of churches in the newly settled West and their 
multiplication everywhere else. Small churches are some- 
times maintained out of pride when it would be better to let 
them be united with other congregations of the same body. 

714 



BBAP.oni INFLUENCE OF RELIGION 715 

But the attendance is generally good. In cities of moderate 
size, as well as in small towns and country places, a stranger 

is told that the bulk of the native American population go to 
church at Least once every Sunday. In the great cities the 
proportion of those who attend is far smaller, but whether or 
no as small as in English cities no one could tell me. One is 
much struck by the habit of church-going in the more settled 
parts of the Far West where the people, being new-comers, 
might be supposed' to be less under the sway of habit and 
convention. California is an exception, and is the State sup- 
posed to be least affected by religious influences. But in the 
chief city of Oregon I found that a person, and especially a 
lady, who did not belong to some church and attend it pretty 
regularly, would be looked askance on. She need not actually 
lose caste, but the fact would excite surprise and regret ; and 
her disquieted friends would put some pressure upon her to 
enrol herself as a church member. 

The observance of the Sabbath as it was, or the Sunday as it 
is now more usually, called, furnishes another test. Although 
the strictness of Puritan practice has disappeared, even in 
New England, the American part of the rural population, 
especially in the South, refrains from amusement as well as 
from work. 1 It is otherwise with the Germans ; and in some 
parts of the country their example has brought in laxity as 

1 An interesting summary of the laws for the ohservance of Sunday may 
be found in a paper read by Mr. Henry E. Young at the Third Annual Meet- 
ing of the American Bar Association (1880). These laws, which seem to 
exist in every State, are in many cases very strict, forbidding all labour, 
except works of necessity and mercy, and in many cases forbidding also 
travelling and nearly every kind of amusement. Vermont and South Carolina 
seem to go farthest in tins direction. The former prescribes, under a tine of 
S'_, tbat no one shall "visit from house to house, except from motives 
of humanity or charity, or travel from midnight of Saturday to midnight of 
Sunday, or hold or attend any ball or dance, or use any game, sport, or play, 
or resort to any house of entertainment for amusement or recreation." 

In Indiana, where all labour and " engaging in one's usual avocation" are 
prohibited, it has been held by the Courts that " selling a cigar to one who has 
contracted the habit of smoking is a work of necessity." 

South Carolina winds up a minute series of prohibitions by ordering all 
persons to apply themselves to the observance of the day by exercising them- 
selves thereon in the duties of piety and true religion. It need hardly be said 
that these laws are practically obsolete, except so far as they forbid ordinary 
and unnecessary traffic and labour. To that extent they are supported by 
public sentiment, and are justified as being in the nature not so much of 
religious as of socially and economically usef ul regulations. 



716 SOCIAL INSTITUTIONS part vi 

regards amusement. Such cities as Chicago, Cincinnati, New 
Orleans, and San Francisco have a Sunday quite unlike that 
of New England, and more resembling what one finds in 
Germany or France. Nowhere however does one see the shops 
open or ordinary work done. On many railroads there are few 
Sunday trains, and museums are in many cities closed. But in 
two respects the practice is more lax than in Great Britain. 
Most of the leading newspapers publish Sunday editions, which 
contain a great deal of general readable matter, stories, gossip, 
and so forth, over and above the news of the day ; and in the 
great cities theatres are now open on Sunday evenings. 1 

The interest in theological questions is less keen than it was 
in New England a century ago, but keener than it has generally 
been in England since the days of the Commonwealth. A great 
deal of the ordinary reading of the average family has a reli- 
gious tinge, being supplied in religious or semi-religious weekly 
and monthly magazines. In many parts of the West the old 
problems of predestination, reprobation, and election continue 
to be discussed by farmers and shopkeepers in their leisure 
moments with the old eagerness, and give a sombre tinge to 
their views of religion. The ordinary man knows the Bible 
better, and takes up an allusion to it more quickly than the 
ordinary Englishman, though perhaps not better than the ordi- 
nary Scotchman. Indeed I may say once for all that the 
native American in everything concerning theology reminds 
one much more of Scotland than of England, although in the 
general cast and turn of his mind he is far more English than 
Scotch. It is hard to state any general view as to the sub- 
stance of pulpit teaching, because the differences between 
different denominations are marked; but on the whole the 
tendency has been, alike among Congregationalists, Baptists, 
Northern Presbyterians, and Episcopalians, for sermons to be 
less metaphysical and less markedly doctrinal than formerly, 
and to become either expository or else of a practical and 
hortatory character. This is less the case among the Presbyte- 
rians of the South, who are more stringently orthodox, and in 

1 One hears that it is now becoming the custom to make a week's engage- 
ment of an operatic or theatrical company — there are many traversing the 
country — begin on Sunday instead of, as formerly, on Monday night. 

Boston, Philadelphia, and New York have opened their public libraries, 
museums, and art galleries on Sunday. 



ciivp. ovn INFLUENCE OF KKLIGION 717 

all respects more conservative than their brethren of the North. 
The discussion of the Leading theological questions of the day, 
Buch as those of the authority of Scripture, the relation of natural 
science to the teachings of the Bible, the existence of rewards 
and punishments in a future state, goes on much as in England. 
Some of the leading reviews and magazines publish articles on 
these subjects, which are read more widely than corresponding 
articles in England, but do not, I think, absorb any more of the 
thought and attention of the average educated man and woman. 
Whether scepticism makes any sensible advance either in 
affecting a larger number of minds, or in cutting more deeply 
at the roots of their belief in God and immortality, is a 
question which it is to-day extremely difficult for any one to 
answer even as regards his own country. There are many 
phenomena in every part of Europe which appear to indicate 
that it does advance ; there are others which point in the oppo- 
site direction. Much more difficult, then, must it be for a 
stranger to express a positive opinion as regards America on 
this gravest of all subjects of inquiry. The conditions of 
England and America appear to me very similar, and what- 
ever tendency prevails in either country is likely to prevail in 
the other. The mental habits of the people are the same; 
their fundamental religious conceptions are the same, except 
that those who prize a visible Church and bow to her authority 
are relatively fewer among American Protestants ; their theo- 
logical literature is the same. In discussing a theological 
question with an American one never feels that slight differ- 
ence of point of view, or, so to speak, of mental atmosphere, 
which is sure to crop up in talking to a Frenchman or an 
Italian, or even to a German. Considerations of speculative 
argument, considerations of religious feeling, affect the two 
nations in the same way : the course of their religious history 
is not likely to diverge. If there be a difference at all in their 
present attitude, it is perhaps to be found in this, that whereas 
Americans are more frequently disposed to treat minor issues 
in a bold and free spirit, they are more apt to recoil from blank 
negation. As an American once said to me — they are apt to 
put serious views into familiar words — " We don't mind going 
a good way along the plank, but we like to stop short of the 
jump-off." 



718 SOCIAL INSTITUTIONS part vi 

Whether pronounced theological unbelief, which has latterly 
been preached by lectures and pamphlets with a freedom 
unknown even thirty years ago, has made substantial progress 
among the thinking part of the working class is a question on 
which one hears the most opposite statements. I have seen 
statistics which purport to show that the proportion of mem- 
bers of Christian churches to the total population has risen in 
the Protestant churches from 1 in 141 i n a.d. 1800 to 1 in 5 
in a.d. 1880 ; and which estimate the number of communicants 
in 1880 at 12,000,000, the total adult population in that year 
being taken at 25,000,000. So the census of churches of 1890 
gives the number of church members or communicants at 
20,000,000 out of an adult population which may be taken at 
31,000,000. But one also hears many lamentations over the 
diminished attendance at city churches ; and in ecclesiastical 
circles people sslj, just as they say in England, that the great 
problem is how to reach the masses. The most probable con- 
clusion seems to be that while in cities like New York and 
Chicago the bulk of the humbler classes (except the Eoman 
Catholics, who are largely recent immigrants) are practically 
heathen to the same extent as in London, or Liverpool, or 
Berlin, the proportion of working men who belong to some 
religious body is rather larger in towns under 30,000 than it is 
in the similar towns of Great Britain or Germany. 

In the cultivated circles of the great cities one finds a good 
many people, as one does in England, who have virtually 
abandoned Christianity ; and in most of the smaller cities there 
is said to be a knot of men who profess agnosticism, and 
sometimes have a meeting-place where secularist lectures are 
delivered. Eifty years ago the former class would have been 
fewer and more reserved ; the latter would scarcely have 
existed. But the relaxation of the old strictness of orthodoxy 
has not diminished the zeal of the various churches, nor their 
hold upon their adherents, nor their attachment to the funda- 
mental doctrines of Christianity. 

This zeal and attachment happily no longer show themselves 
in intolerance. Except in small places in the West or South, 
where aggressive scepticism would rouse displeasure and might 
affect a man's position in society, everybody is as free in 
America as in London to hold and express any views he pleases. 



cu.vr. r\ ii 



INFLUENCE OF RFLIGION 719 



Within the churches themselves there is an unmistakable 
tendency to loosen the bonds of subscription required from 
clergymen. Prosecutions for heresy of course come before 
church courts, since no civil court would take cognizance of 
such matters unless when invoked by some one alleging that 
a church court had given a decision, or a church authority had 
taken an executive step, which prejudiced him in some civil 
right, and was unjust because violating an obligation contracted 
with him. 1 Such prosecutions are not uncommon, but the 
sympathy of the public is usually with the accused minister, 
and the latitude allowed to divergence from the old standards 
becomes constantly greater. At present it is in the Congrega- 
tionalist church pretty much the same as in that church in 
England ; in the Presbyterian church of the North, and among 
Baptists and Methodists, slightly less than in the unestablished 
Presbyterian churches of Scotland. Speaking generally, no 
(orthodox) church allows quite so much latitude either in 
doctrine or in ritual as recent decisions of the courts of law, 
beginning from the " Essays and Eeviews " case, have allowed 
to the clergy of the Anglican Establishment in England ; but 
I could not gather that the clergy of the various Protestant 
bodies feel themselves fettered, or that the free development 
of religious thought is seriously checked, except in the South, 
where orthodoxy is rigid, and forbids a clergyman to hold Mr. 
Darwin's views regarding the descent of man. 2 A pastor who 
begins to chafe under the formularies or liturgy of his denom- 
ination would be expected to leave the denomination and join 
some other in which he could feel more at home. He would 
not suffer socially by doing so, as an Anglican clergyman 
possibly might in the like case in England. In the Roman 
Catholic church there is, of course, no similar indulgence to a 
deviation from the ancient dogmatic standards; but there is 
a greater disposition to welcome the newer forms of learning 
and culture than one finds in England or Ireland, and what 
may be called a more pronounced democratic spirit. So among 
the younger Protestant clergy there has been of late years a 

1 Including the case in which a church court had disregarded its own regu- 
lations, or acted in violation of the plain principles of judicial procedure. 

- Not Long au r o, a professor, not in the theological faculty, was removed 
from his chair in the University of South Carolina for holding Unitarian 



720 SOCIAL INSTITUTIONS part vi 

tendency, if not to socialism, yet to a marked discontent with 
existing economic conditions, resembling what is now percep- 
tible among the younger clergy in Britain. 

As respects what may be called the every-day religious life 
and usages of the United States, there are differences from 
those of England or Scotland which it is easy to feel but hard 
to define or describe. There is rather less conventionalism or 
constraint in speaking of religious experiences, less of a formal 
separation between the church and the world, less disposition 
to treat the clergy as a caste and expect them to conform to a 
standard not prescribed for the layman, 1 less reticence about 
sacred things, perhaps less sense of the refinement with which 
sacred things ought to be surrounded. The letting by auction 
of sittings in a popular church, though I think very rare, 
excites less disapproval than it would in Europe. Some fash- 
ionable churches are supplied with sofas, carpets, and the other 
comforts of a drawing-room ; a well-trained choir is provided, 
and the congregation would not think of spoiling the perform- 
ance by joining in the singing. The social side of church life 
is more fully developed than in Protestant Europe. A con- 
gregation, particularly among the Methodists, Baptists, and 
Congregationalists, is the centre of a group of societies, liter- 
ary and recreative as well as religious and philanthropic, 
which not only stimulate charitable work, but bring the poorer 
and richer members into friendly relations with one another, 
and form a large part of the social enjoyments of the young 
people, keeping them out of harm's way, and giving them a 
means of forming acquaintances. Often a sort of informal 
evening party, called a " sociable," is given once a month, at 
which all ages and classes meet on an easy footing. 2 Keligion 
seems to associate itself better with the interests of the young 

1 Although total abstinence is much more generally expected from a clergy- 
man than it would be in Great Britain. In most denominations, including 
Baptists and Methodists, Congregationalists and Presbyterians, it is practi- 
cally universal among the clergy. 

2 Even dances may be given, but not by all denominations. When some 
years ago a Presbyterian congregation in a great Western city was giving a 
" reception " in honour of the opening of its new Church Building — prosperous 
churches always have a building with a set of rooms for meetings — the sexton 
(as he is called in America), who had come from a Protestant Episcopal 
church in the East, observed, as he surveyed the spacious hall, " What a pity 
you are not Episcopalians ; you might have given a ball in this room! " 



crap, cvn INFLUENCE OF RELIGION 721 

in America, and to have eome within the Last forty years to 
wear a less forbidding countenance than it has generally done 
in Britain, or at least among English Nonconformists and in 
the churches of Scotland. 

A still more peculiar feature of the American churches is the 
propensity to what may be called Revivalism which some of 
them, and especially the Methodist churches, show. That 
exciting preaching and those external demonstrations of feeling 
which have occasionally appeared in Britain, have long been 
chronic there, appearing chiefly in the form of the camp-meet- 
ing, a gathering of people usually in the woods or on the sea- 
shore, where open-air preaching goes on perhaps for days 
together. One hears many stories about these camp-meetings, 
not always to their credit, which agree at least in this, that 
they exercise a powerful even if transient influence upon the 
humbler classes who flock to them. In the West they have 
been serviceable in evangelizing districts where few regular 
churches had yet been established. In the East and South it 
is now chiefly among the humbler classes, and of course still 
more among the negroes, that they flourish. All denomina- 
tions are more prone to emotionalism in religion, and have less 
reserve in displaying it, than in England or Scotland. I re- 
member in 1870 to have been a passenger by one of the splen- 
did steamers which ply along the Sound between New York 
and Fall River. A Unitarian Congress was being held in New 
York, and a company of New England Unitarians were going 
to attend it. Now New England Unitarians are of all Ameri- 
cans perhaps the most staid and sober in their thoughts and 
habits, the least inclined to a demonstrative expression of their 
faith. This company, however, installed itself round the piano 
in the great saloon of the vessel and sang hymns, hymns full 
of effusion, for nearly two hours, many of the other passengers 
joining, and all looking on with sympathy. Our English party 
assumed at first that the singers belonged to some Methodist 
body, in which case there would have been nothing to remark 
except the attitude of the bystanders. But they were Uni- 
tarians. 

European travellers have in one point greatly exaggerated 
the differences between their own continent and the United 
States. They have represented the latter as pre-eminently a 

VOL. II 3 A 



722 SOCIAL INSTITUTIONS part vi 

land of strange sects and abnormal religious developments. 
Such sects and developments there certainly are, but they play 
no greater part in the whole life of the nation than similar sects 
do in Germany and England, far less than the various dissent- 
ing communities do in Russia. The Mormons have drawn the 
eyes of the world because they have attempted to form a sort 
of religious commonwealth, and have revived one ancient prac- 
tice which modern ethics condemn, and which severe con- 
gressional legislation has now almost stamped out. But the 
Mormon church is chiefly recruited from Europe ; one finds 
few native Americans in Salt Lake City, and those few from 
among the poor whites of the South. 1 The Shakers are an 
interesting and well-conducted folk, but there are very few of 
them, and they decrease — there were in 1890 only 1728 per- 
sons in their fifteen communities ; while of the other commu- 
nistic religious bodies one hears more in Europe than in America. 
Here and there some strange little sect emerges and lives for a 
few years ; 2 but in a country seething with religious emotion, 
and whose conditions seem to tempt to new departures and 
experiments of all kinds, the philosophic traveller may rather 
wonder that men have stood so generally upon the old paths. 

We have already seen that Christianity has in the United 
States maintained, so far as externals go, its authority and 
dignity, planting its houses of worship all over the country 
and raising enormous revenues from its adherents. Such a 
position of apparent influence might, however, rest upon an- 
cient habit and convention, and imply no dominion over the 
• souls of men. The Eoman Empire in the days of Augustus 
was covered from end to end with superb temples to many 
gods ; the priests were numerous and wealthy, and enjoyed 

1 There is a non-polygamous Mormon church, rejecting Brigham Young 
and his successors in Utah, which returns itself to the census of 1890 as having 
21,773 members. Some Southern States punish the preaching of Mormonism. 

2 Near Walla Walla in the State of Washington I came across a curious sect 
formed by a Welshman who fell into trances and delivered revelations. He 
had two sons, and asserted one of them to be an incarnation of Christ, and the 
other of St. John the Baptist, and gathered about fifty disciples, whom he 
endeavoured to form into a society having all things in common. However, 
both the children died ; and in 1881 most of his disciples had deserted him . 
Probably such phenomena are not uncommon ; there is a good deal of prone- 
ness to superstition among the less educated Westerns, especially the immi- 
grants from Europe. They lead a solitary life in the midst of a vast nature. 



chap, cvn INFLUENCE OF RELIGION 723 

the protection of the State ; processions retained their pomp, 
and sacrifices drew crowds of admiring worshippers. But the 
old religions had lost their hold on the belief of the educated 
and on the conscience of all classes. If therefore we desire to 
know what place Christianity really fills in America, and how 
far it gives stability to the commonwealth, we must inquire 
how far it governs the life and moulds the mind of the 
country. 

Such an inquiry may address itself to two points. It may 
examine into the influence which religion has on the conduct 
of the people, on their moral standard and the way they con- 
form themselves thereto. And it may ask how far religion 
touches and gilds the imagination of the people, redeeming 
their lives from commonness, and bathing their souls in " the 
light that never was on sea or land." 

In works of active beneficence no country has surpassed, 
perhaps none has equalled, the United States. Not only are 
the sums collected for all sorts of philanthropic purposes 
larger relatively to the wealth of America than in any Euro- 
pean country, but the amount of personal interest shown in 
good works and personal effort devoted to them seems to a 
European visitor to exceed what he knows at home. How 
much of this interest and effort would be given were no reli- 
gious motive present it is impossible to say. Not all, but I 
think nearly all of it, is in fact given by religious people, and, 
as they themselves suppose, under a religious impulse. This 
religious impulse is less frequently than in England a sectarian 
impulse, for all Protestants, and to some extent Roman Cath- 
olics also, are wont to join hands for most works of benevo- 
lence. 

The ethical standard of the average man is of course the 
Christian standard, modified to some slight extent by the cir- 
cumstances of American life, which have been different from 
those of Protestant Europe. The average man has not thought 
of any other standard, and religious teaching, though it has 
become less definite and less dogmatic, is still to him the 
source whence he believes himself to have drawn his ideas 
of duty and conduct. In Puritan days there must have been 
some little conscious and much more unconscious hypocrisy, 
the profession of religion being universal, and the exactitude 



724 SOCIAL INSTITUTIONS part vi 

of practice required by opinion, and even by law, being above 
what ordinary human nature seems capable of attaining. The 
fault of antinomianism which used to be charged on high 
Calvinists is now sometimes charged on those who become, 
under the influence of revivals, extreme emotionalists in reli- 
gion. But taking the native Americans as a whole, no people 
seems to-day less open to the charge of pharisaism or hypoc- 
risy. They are perhaps rather more prone to the opposite 
error of good-natured indulgence to offences of which they are 
not themselves guilty. 

That there is less crime among native Americans than among 
the foreign born is a point not to be greatly pressed, for it 
may be partly due to the fact that the latter are the poorer 
and more ignorant part of the population. If, however, we 
take matters which do not fall within the scope of penal law, 
the general impression of those who have lived long both in 
Protestant Europe and in America seems to be that as respects 
veracity, temperance, the purity of domestic life, 1 tenderness 
to children and the weak, and general kindliness of behaviour, 
the native Americans stand rather higher than either the Eng- 
lish or the Germans. 2 And those whose opinion I am quoting 
seem generally, though not universally, disposed to think that 
the influence of religious belief, which may survive in its effect 
upon the character when a man has dropped his connection 
with any religious body, counts for a good deal in this, and is 
a more consciously present and active force than in the two 
countries I have referred to. 

If we ask how far religion exerts a stimulating influence on 
the thought and imagination of a nation, we are met by the 
difficulty of determining what is the condition of mankind 

1 The great frequency of divorce in some States — there are spots where 
the proportion of divorces to marriages is 1 to 7 — does not appear to betoken 
immorality, but to be due to the extreme facility with which the law allows 
one or both of a married pair to indulge their caprice. Divorce is said to be 
less frequent in proportion among the middle and upper than among the hum- 
bler classes, and is, speaking generally, more frequent the further West one 
goes. It is increasing everywhere; but it increases also in those European 
countries which permit it. I have collected materials for an account of the 
laws and their working, but am unable to insert that account in the present 
edition. 

2 This can not be said as regards commercial uprightness, in which respect 
the United States stand certainly on no higher level than England and Ger- 
many, and possibly below France and Scandinavia. 



chap, cvn INFLUENCE OF RELIGION 725 

where no such influence is present. There has never been a 
civilized nation without a religion; and though many highly 
civilized individual men live without one, they are so obviously 
the children of a state of sentiment and thought in which 
religion has been a powerful factor, that no one can conjecture 
what a race of men would be like who had during several 
generations believed themselves to be the highest beings in the 
universe, or at least entirely out of relation to any other higher 
being, and to be therewithal destined to no kind of existence 
after death. Some may hold that respect for public opinion, 
sympathy, an interest in the future of mankind, would do for 
such a people what religion has done in the past ; or that they 
might even be, as Lucretius expected, the happier for the ex- 
tinction of possible supernatural terrors. Others may hold that 
life would seem narrow and insignificant, and that the wings 
of imagination would droop, in a universe felt to be void. All 
that need be here said is that a people with comparatively 
little around it in the way of historic memories and associa- 
tions to touch its emotion, a people whose energy is chiefly 
absorbed in commerce and the development of the material 
resources of its territory, a people consumed by a feverish 
activity that gives little opportunity for reflection or for the 
contemplation of nature, seems most of all to need to have its 
horizon widened, its sense of awe and mystery touched, by 
whatever calls it away from the busy world of sight and sound 
into the stillness of faith and meditation. A perusal of the 
literature which the ordinary American of the educated farm- 
ing and working class reads, and a study of the kind of litera- 
ture which those Americans who are least coloured by Euro- 
pean influences produce, lead me to think that the Bible and 
Christian theology altogether do more in the way of forming 
the imaginative background to an average American view of 
the world of man and nature than they do in modern Protes- 
tant Europe. 

No one is so thoughtless as not to sometimes ask himself 
what would befall mankind if the solid fabric of belief on which 
their morality has hitherto rested, or at least been deemed by 
them to rest, were suddenly to break up and vanish under the 
influence of new views of nature, as the ice-fields split and 
melt when they have floated down into a warmer sea. Moral- 



726 SOCIAL INSTITUTIONS part ti 

ity with religion for its sanction has hitherto been the basis 
of social polity, except under military despotisms : would 
morality be so far weakened as to make social polity unstable ? 
and if so, would a reign of violence return ? In Europe this 
question does not seem urgent, because in Europe the physical 
force of armed men which maintains order is usually conspic- 
uous, and because obedience to authority is everywhere in 
Europe matter of ancient habit, having come down little im- 
paired from ages when men obeyed without asking for a 
reason. But in America, the whole system of government 
seems to rest not on armed force, but on the will of the numeri- 
cal majority, a majority most of whom might well think that 
its overthrow would be for them a gain. So sometimes, stand- 
ing in the midst of a great American city, and watching the 
throngs of eager figures streaming hither and thither, mark- 
ing the sharp contrasts of poverty and wealth, an increasing 
mass of wretchedness and an increasing display of luxury, 
knowing that before long a hundred millions of men will be 
living between ocean and ocean under this one government 
— a government which their own hands have made, and which 
they feel to be the work of their own hands — one is startled 
by the thought of what might befall this huge yet delicate 
fabric of laws and commerce and social institutions were the 
foundation it has rested on to crumble away. Suppose that 
all these men ceased to believe that there was any power 
above them, any future before them, anything in heaven or 
earth but what their senses told them of; suppose that their 
consciousness of individual force and responsibility, already 
dwarfed by the overwhelming power of the multitude, and 
the fatalistic submission it engenders, were further weakened 
by the feeling that their swiftly fleeting life was rounded by 
a perpetual sleep — 

Soles occidere et redire possunt : 
Nobis, quum semel occidit brevis lux 
Nox est perpetua una dorinienda. 

Would the moral code stand unshaken, and with it the rever- 
ence for law, the sense of duty towards the community, and 
even towards the generations yet to come ? Would men say 
"Let us eat and drink, for to-morrow we die"? Or would 



ciiai-. evil INFLUENCE OF BELIGION 727 

custom, and sympathy, and a perception, of the advantages which 

stable government offers to the citizens as a whole, and which 
orderly self-restraint offers to each one, replace supernatural 
sanctions, and hold in cheek the violence of masses and the 
self-indulgent impulses of the individual ? History, if she 
cannot give a complete answer to this question, tells us that 
hitherto civilized society has rested on religion, and that free 
government has prospered best among religious peoples. 

America is no doubt the country in which intellectual move- 
ments work most swiftly upon the masses, and the country in 
which the loss of faith in the invisible might produce the com- 
pletest revolution, because it is the country where men have 
been least wont to revere anything in the visible world. Yet 
America seems as unlikely to drift from her ancient moorings 
as any country of the Old World. It was religious zeal and 
the religious conscience which led to the founding of the New 
England colonies two centuries and a half ago — those colonies 
whose spirit has in such a large measure passed into the whole 
nation. Religion and conscience have been a constantly active 
force in the American commonwealth ever since, not, indeed, 
strong enough to avert many moral and political evils, yet at 
the worst times inspiring a minority with a courage and ardour 
by which moral and political evils have been held at bay, and 
in the long run generally overcome. 

It is an old saying that monarchies live by honour and 
republics by virtue. The more democratic republics become, 
the more the masses grow conscious of their own power, the 
more do they need to live, not only by patriotism, but by rever- 
ence and self-control, and the more essential to their well- 
being are those sources whence reverence and self-control 
flow. 



CHAPTER CVIII 

THE POSITION OF WOMEN 

It has been well said that the position which women hold 
in a country is, if not a complete test, yet one of the best tests 
of the progress it has made in civilization. When one com- 
pares nomad man with settled man, heathen man with Chris- 
tian man, the ancient world with the modern, the Eastern 
world with the Western, it is plain that in every case the 
advance in public order, in material comfort, in wealth, in 
decency and refinement of manners, among the whole popula- 
tion of a country — for in these matters one must not look 
merely at the upper class — has been accompanied by a greater 
respect for women, by a greater freedom accorded to them, by 
a fuller participation on their part in the best work of the 
world. Americans are fond of pointing, and can with perfect 
justice point, to the position their women hold as an evidence 
of the high level their civilization has reached. Certainly 
nothing in the country is more characteristic of the peculiar 
type their civilization has taken. 

The subject may be regarded in so many aspects that it is 
convenient to take up each separately. 

As respects the legal rights of women, these, of course, 
depend on the legislative enactments of each State of the 
Union, for in no case has the matter been left under the rigour 
of the common law. With much diversity in minor details, 
the general principles of the law are in all or nearly all the 
States similar. Women have been placed in an equality with 
men as respects all private rights. In some States husband and 
wife can sue one another at law. Married as well as unmarried 
women have long since (and I think everywhere) obtained full 
control of their property, whether obtained by gift or descent, 
or by their own labour. This has been deemed so important a 
point that, instead of being left to ordinary legislation, it has 

728 



DBAP.orm Position OF WOMEN 729 

\ era] States been directly enacted by the people in the 
Constitution. Women have in most, though perhaps not in all, 
States rights of guardianship over their children which the law 
of England denied to them till the Act of 1886; and in some 
States the mother's rights are equal, where there has been a vol- 
untary separation, to those of the father. The law of divorce 
is in many States far from satisfactory, but it always aims at 
doing e<pial justice as between husbands and wives. Special 
protection as respects hours of labour is given to women by the 
laws of many States, and a good deal of recent legislation has 
been passed with intent to benefit them, though not always by 
well-chosen means. 

'Women have made their way into most of the professions 
more largely than in Europe. In many of the Northern cities 
they practise as physicians, and seem to have found little or no 
prejudice to overcome. Medical schools have been provided 
for them in some universities. It was less easy to obtain 
admission to the bar, yet several have secured this, and the 
number seems to increase. They mostly devote themselves to 
the attorney's part of the work rather than to court practice. 
One edits, or lately edited, the Illinois Law Journal with great 
acceptance. Several have entered the Christian ministry, though, 
I think, only in what may be called the minor sects, not in any 
of the five or six great denominations, whose spirit is more 
conservative. Some have obtained success as professional lect- 
urers, and not a few are journalists. One hears little of them 
in engineering. They are seldom to be seen in the offices of 
hotels, but many, more than in England, are employed as clerks 
or secretaries, both in some of the Government departments, 
and by telegraphic and other companies, as well as in publish- 
ing houses and other kinds of business where physical strength 
is not needed. Type-writing work is largely in their hands. 
They form an overwhelming majority of the teachers in public 
schools for boys as well as for girls, and are thought to be bet- 
ter teachers, at least for the younger sort, than men are. 1 No 

1 The number of teachers in the common schools is given by the United States 
Bureau of Education Report for 1889-90 at 125,602 men and 2:>8,333 women. 
As male teacbers are in a majority in the Southern States and in Indiana and 
New Mexico, the preponderance of women in the Northern States generally is 
very great. It bas increased sensibly of late years over the whole country. 
In Massachusetts women teachers are nine times as numerous as men. 



730 SOCIAL INSTITUTIONS part vi 

class prejudice forbids the daughters of clergymen or lawyers 
of the best standing to teach in elementary schools. Taking 
one thing with another, it is easier for women to find a career, 
to obtain remunerative work of an intellectual as of a commer- 
cial or mechanical kind, than in any part of Europe. Popular 
sentiment is entirely in favour of giving them every chance, 
as witness the new Constitutions of several Western States 
(including Washington, which has refused them the suffrage) 
which expressly provide that they shall be equally admissible 
to all professions or employments. In no other country have 
women borne so conspicuous a part in the promotion of moral 
and philanthropic causes. They were among the earliest, most 
zealous, and most effective apostles of the anti-slavery move- 
ment. They have taken an equally active share in the temper- 
ance agitation. Not only has the Women's Christian Temperance 
Union with its numerous branches been the most powerful 
agency directed against the traffic in intoxicants, particularly 
in the Western States, but individual women have thrown 
themselves into the struggle with extraordinary zeal. Some 
years ago, during what was called the women's whiskey war, 
they forced their way into the drinking saloons, bearded the 
dealers, adjured the tipplers to come out. At elections in which 
the Prohibitionist issue is prominent, ladies will sometimes 
assemble outside the polls and sing hymns at the voters. Their 
services in dealing with pauperism, with charities and reforma- 
tory institutions, have been inestimable. In New York some 
few years ago, when an Act was needed for improving the 
administration of the charities, it was a lady (belonging to one 
of the oldest and most respected families in the country) who 
went to Albany, and by placing the case forcibly before the 
State legislature there, succeeded in obtaining the required 
measure. The Charity Organization societies of the great 
cities are largely managed by ladies ; and the freedom they 
enjoy, coupled with a knowledge of business, less frequent 
among European women, makes them invaluable agents in this 
work, which the growth of a pauper class renders daily more 
important. So too when it became necessary after the war to 
find teachers for the negroes in the institutions founded for their 
benefit in the South, it was chiefly Northern girls who volun- 
teered for the duty, and discharged it with single-minded zeal. 



BHAP. cvin POSITION OF WOMEN 731 

American women take less part in polities than their English 
listers do, although more than the women of Germany, France, 

or Italy. That they talk less about polities may be partly 
ascribed to the fact that politics come less into ordinary con- 
versation in America (except during a presidential election) 
than in England. But the practice of canvassing at elections, 
recently developed by English ladies with eminent success, 
seems unknown. Ladies have never, I think, been chosen 
members of either Republican or Democratic conventions. 
However, at the National Convention of the Prohibitionist 
party at Pittsburg in 1884 a number of ladies presented creden- 
tials as delegates from local organizations, and were admitted 
to sit. One of the two secretaries of that Convention was 
a woman. Several were placed on the Committee of Creden- 
tials. So women have in some cities, and notably in Phila- 
delphia, borne a useful and influential, albeit comparatively 
inconspicuous part, in the recent movements for the reform of 
municipal government. Here we are on the debatable ground 
between pure party politics and philanthropic agitation. Women 
have been so effective in the latter that they cannot easily be 
excluded when persuasion passes into constitutional action, and 
one is not surprised to find the Prohibition party declare in their 
platform of 1884 that " they alone recognize the influence of 
woman, and offer to her equal rights with man in the manage- 
ment of national affairs." At the recent gatherings in the 
"West which gave expression to the discontent of the farming 
class, women appeared, and were treated with a deference 
which anywhere but in America would have contrasted strangely 
with the roughness of the crowd. One of them signalized her- 
self by denouncing a proposed banquet, on the ground that it 
was being got up in the interests of the brewers. Presidential 
candidates have often " receptions " given in their honour by 
ladies, and some of the letters which, during the campaign of 
1884, appeared in the newspapers in advocacy of one or other 
party, bore female signatures. One hears of attempts made to 
establish political " salons " at Washington, but neither there 
nor elsewhere has the influence of social gatherings attained the 
importance it has often possessed in France, though occasionally 
the wife of a politician makes his fortune by her tact and skill 
in winning support for him among professional politicians or 



732 SOCIAL INSTITUTIONS part vi 

the members of a State legislature. There is, however, another 
and less auspicious sphere of political action into which women 
have found their way at the national capital. The solicitation 
of members of a legislature with a view to the passing of bills, 
especially private bills, and to the obtaining of places, has 
become a profession there, and the persuasive assiduity which 
had long been recognized by poets as characteristic of the 
female sex, has made them widely employed and efficient in 
this work. 

I have already, in treating of the woman suffrage move- 
ment (Chapter XCVL), referred to the various public offices 
which have been in many States thrown open to women. It 
is universally admitted that the gift of the suffrage must carry 
with it the right of obtaining any post in the service of the 
country for which votes are cast, up to and including the Pres- 
idency itself. 

The subject of women's education opens up a large field. 
Want of space obliges me to omit a description, for which I 
have accumulated abundant materials, and to confine myself 
to a few concise remarks. 

The public provision for the instruction of girls is quite as 
ample and adequate as that made for boys. Elementary schools 
are of course provided alike for both sexes, grammar schools 
and high schools are organized for the reception of girls some- 
times under the same roof or even in the same classes, some- 
times in a distinct building, but always, I think, with an equally 
complete staff of teachers and equipment of educational ap- 
pliances. The great majority of the daughters of mercantile 
and professional men, especially of course in the West, 1 re- 
ceive their education in these public secondary schools ; and, 
what is more remarkable, the number of girls who continue 
their education in the higher branches, including the ancient 
classics and physical science, up to the age of seventeen or 
eighteen, is as large, in many places larger, than that of the 
boys, the latter being drafted off into practical life, while 
the former indulge their more lively interest in the things of 
the mind. One often hears it charged as a fault on the Ameri- 

1 There are some private boarding schools and many private day schools 
for girls in the Eastern States. Comparatively few children are educated at 
home by governesses. 



chap, c viii POSITION OF WOMEN 733 

can system that its liberal provision of gratuitous instruction in 
the advanced subjects tends to raise girls of the humbler classes 
out of the sphere to which their pecuniary means would destine 
them, makes them discontented with their lot, implants tastes 
which fate will for ever forbid them to gratify. 

As stated in a previous chapter (Chapter CV.), University 
education is provided for women in the Eastern States by 
colleges expressly erected for their benefit, and in the Western 
States by State universities, whose regulations usually provide 
for the admission of female equally with male students to a 
gratuitous instruction in all subjects. There are also some 
colleges of private foundation which receive young men and 
maidens together, teaching them in the same classes, but 
providing separate buildings for their lodging. 

I must not attempt to set forth and discuss the evidence 
regarding the working of this system of co-education, in- 
teresting as the facts are, but be content with stating the 
general result of the inquiries I made. 

Co-education answers perfectly in institutions like Antioch 
and Oberlin in Ohio, where manners are plain and simple, 
where the students all come from a class in which the inter- 
course of young men and young women is easy and natural, 
and where there is a strong religious influence pervading the 
life of the place. No moral difficulties are found to arise. 
Each sex is said to improve the other : the men become more 
refined, the women more manly. Now and then students fall 
in love with one another, and marry when they have graduated. 
But why not ? Such marriages are based upon a better recipro- 
cal knowledge of character than is usually attainable in the great 
world, and are reported to be almost invariably happy. So also 
in the Western State universities co-education is well reported 
of. In these establishments the students mostly lodge where 
they will in the city, and are therefore brought into social 
relations only in the hours of public instruction ; but the ten- 
dency of late years has been, while leaving men to find their 
own. quarters, to provide places of residence for the women. 
The authorities have little to do in the way of discipline or 
supervision, and say they do not find it needed, and that they 
are not aware of any objections to the system. I did find, 
however, that the youths in some cases expressed aversion to 



734 SOCIAL INSTITUTIONS part vi 

it, saying they would rather be in classes by themselves ; the 
reason apparently being that it was disagreeable to see a man 
whom men thought meanly of standing high in the favour of 
lady students. In these Western States there is so much free- 
dom allowed in the intercourse of youths and girls, and girls 
are so well able to take care of themselves, that the objections 
which occur to a European arouse no disquietude. Whether a 
system which has borne good fruits in the primitive society of 
the West is fit to be adopted in the Eastern States, where the 
conditions of life approach nearer to those of Europe, is a 
question warmly debated in America. The need for it is at 
any rate not urgent, because the liberality of founders and 
benefactors has provided in at least five women's colleges — 
one of them a department of Harvard University — places 
where an excellent education, surpassing that of most of the 
Western universities, stands open to women. These colleges 
are at present so efficient and popular, and the life of their 
students is in some respects so much freer than it could well 
be, considering the etiquette of Eastern society, in universities 
frequented by both sexes, that they will probably continue to 
satisfy the practical needs of the community and the wishes 
of all but the advocates of complete theoretical equality. 

It will be seen from what has been said that the provision 
for women's education in the United States is ampler and better 
than that made in any European countries, and that the making 
of it has been far more distinctly recognized as a matter of 
public concern. To these advantages, and to the spirit they 
proceed from, much of the influence which women exert must 
be ascribed. They feel more independent, they have a fuller 
consciousness of their place in the world of thought as well as 
in the world of action. The practice of educating the two sexes 
together in the same colleges tends, in those sections of the 
country where it prevails, in the same direction, placing women 
and men on a level as regards attainments, and giving them 
a greater number of common intellectual interests. It does 
not, I think, operate to make women either pedantic or mascu- 
line, or to diminish the differences between their mental and 
moral habits and those of men. Nature is quite strong enough 
to make the differences of temperament she creates persistent, 
even under influences which might seem likely to diminish them. 



0HAP.CYII1 POSITION 01 WOMEN 7.55 

Custom allows to women a greater measure of freedom in 
doing what they will and going where they please than they 
have in any European country, except, perhaps, in Russia. No 
one is surprised to see a lady travel alone from the Atlantic to 
the Pacific, nor a girl of the richer class walking alone through 
the streets of a city. If a lady enters some occupation hereto- 
fore usually reserved to men, she is subject to much less censo- 
rious remark than would follow her in Europe, though in this 
matter the society of Eastern cities is hardly so liberal as that 
of the West. 

Social intercourse between youths and maidens is everywhere 
more easy and unrestrained than in England or Germany, not 
to speak of France. Yet, there are considerable differences 
between the Eastern cities, whose usages have begun to approx- 
imate to those of Europe, and other parts of the country. In 
the rural districts, and generally all over the West, young men 
and girls are permitted to walk together, drive together, go 
out to parties, and even to public entertainments together, 
without the presence of any third person, who can be supposed 
to be looking after or taking charge of the girl. So a girl may, 
if she pleases, keep up a correspondence with a young man, 
nor will her parents think of interfering. She will have her 
own friends, who, when they call at her house, ask for her, 
and are received by her, it may be alone ; because they are not 
deemed to be necessarily the friends of her parents also, nor 
even of her sisters. In the cities of the Atlantic States, it is 
now thought scarcely correct for a young man to take a young 
lady out for a solitary drive ; and in few sets would he be per- 
mitted to escort her alone to the theatre. But girls still go 
without chaperons to dances, the hostess being deemed to act 
as chaperon for all her guests ; and as regards both correspon- 
dence and the right to have one's own circle of acquaintances, 
the usage even of New York or Boston allows more liberty 
than does that of London or Edinburgh. It was at one time, 
and it may possibly still be, not uncommon for a group of young 
people who know one another well to make up an autumn 
" party in the woods." They choose some mountain and forest 
region, such as the Adirondack Wilderness west of Lake Cham- 
plain, engage three or four guides, embark with guns and fishing 
rods, tents, blankets, and a stock of groceries, and pass in boats 



736 SOCIAL INSTITUTIONS part vi 

up the rivers and across the lakes of this wild country through 
sixty or seventy miles of trackless forest to their chosen camp- 
ing ground at the foot of some tall rock that rises from the still 
crystal of the lake. Here they build their bark hut, and spread 
their beds of the elastic and fragrant hemlock boughs ; the 
youths roam about during the day, tracking the deer, the girls 
read and work and bake the corn cakes ; at night there is a 
merry gathering round the fire or a row in the soft moonlight. 
On these expeditions brothers will take their sisters and cousins, 
who bring perhaps some lady friends with them ; the brothers' 
friends will come too ; and all will live together in a fraternal 
way for weeks or months, though no elderly relative or married 
lady be of the party. 

There can be no doubt that the pleasure of life is sensibly 
increased by the greater freedom which transatlantic custom 
permits ; and as the Americans insist that no bad results have 
followed, one notes with regret that freedom declines in the 
places which deem themselves most civilized. American girls 
have been, so far as a stranger can ascertain, less disposed to 
what are called " fast ways " than girls of the corresponding 
classes in England, 1 and exercise in this respect a pretty rigor- 
ous censorship over one another. But when two young people 
find pleasure in one another's company, they can see as much 
of each other as they please, can talk and walk together fre- 
quently, can show that they are mutually interested, and yet 
need have little fear of being misunderstood either by one 
another or by the rest of the world. It is all a matter of 
custom. In the West custom sanctions this easy friendship ; 
in the Atlantic cities so soon as people have come to find some- 
thing exceptional in it, constraint is felt, and a conventional 
etiquette like that of the Old World begins to replace the 
innocent simplicity of the older time, the test of whose merit 
may be gathered from the universal persuasion in America 
that happy marriages are in the middle and upper ranks more 
common than in Europe, and that this is due to the ampler op- 
portunities which young men and women have of learning one 

1 Between fastness and freedom there is in American eyes all the difference 
in the world, but new-comers from Europe are startled. I remember to have 
once heard a German lady settled in a Western city characterize American 
women as " furchtbar frei undfurchtbarfromm " (frightfully free and fright- 
fully pious). 



Ohjlp. cvm POSITION OF WOMEN 737 

1 — • 

another's characters and habits before becoming betrothed. 
Most girls have a larger range of intimate acquaintances than 
girls have in Europe, intercourse is franker, there is less differ- 
ence between the manners of home and the manners of general 
society. The conclusions of a stranger are in such matters of 
no value, so 1 can only repeat that I have never met any 
judicious American lady who, however well she knew the Old 
World, did not think that the New World customs conduced 
more both to the pleasantness of life before marriage, and to 
constancy and concord after it. 

In no country are women, and especially young women, so 
much made of. The world is at their feet. Society seems 
organized for the purpose of providing enjoyment for them. 
Parents, uncles, aunts, elderly friends, even brothers, are ready 
to make their comfort and convenience bend to the girls' 
wishes. The wife has fewer opportunities for reigning over 
the world of amusements, because, except among the richest 
people, she has more to do in household management than in 
England, owing to the scarcity of servants. But she holds in 
her own house a more prominent, if not a more substantially 
powerful, position than in England or even in France. With 
the German Hausfrau, who is too often content to be a mere 
housewife, there is of course no comparison. The best proof 
of the superior place American ladies occupy is to be found in 
the notions they profess to entertain of the relations of an 
English married pair. They talk of the English wife as little 
better than a slave, declaring that when they stay with English 
friends, or receive an English couple in America, they see the 
wife always deferring to the husband and the husband always 
assuming that his pleasure and convenience are to prevail. 
The European wife, they admit, often gets her own way, but 
she gets it by tactful arts, by flattery or wheedling or playing 
on the man's weaknesses ; whereas in America the husband's 
duty and desire is to gratify the wife and render to her those 
services which the English tyrant exacts from his consort. 1 
One may often hear an American matron commiserate a friend 

1 I have heard American ladies say, for instance, that they have observed 
that an Englishman "who has forgotten his keys, sends his wife to the top of 
the honse to fetch them ; whereas an American would do the like errand for 
his wife, ami never suffer her to do it for him. 

VOL. li 3 B 



738 SOCIAL INSTITUTIONS part vi 

who has married in Europe, while the daughters declare in 
chorus that they will never follow the example. Laughable 
as all this may seem to Englishwomen, it is perfectly true that 
the theory as well as the practice of conjugal life is not the 
same in America as in England. There are overbearing hus- 
bands in America, but they are more condemned by the opinion 
of the neighbourhood than in England. There are exacting 
wives in England, but their husbands are more pitied than 
would be the case in America. In neither country can one 
say that the principle of perfect equality reigns, for in America 
the balance inclines nearly though not quite as much in favour 
of the wife as it does in England in favour of the husband. 
No one man can have a sufficiently large acquaintance in both 
countries to entitle his individual opinion on the results to 
much weight. So far as I have been able to collect views from 
those observers who have lived in both countries, they are in 
favour of the American practice, perhaps because the theory 
it is based on departs less from pure equality than does that 
of England. These observers do not mean that the recognition 
of women as equals or superiors makes them any better or 
sweeter or wiser than Englishwomen ; but rather that the 
principle of equality, by correcting the characteristic faults 
of men, and especially their selfishness and vanity, is more 
conducive to the concord and happiness of a home. They con- 
ceive that, to make the wife feel her independence and respon- 
sibility more strongly than she does in Europe, tends to brace 
and expand her character, while conjugal affection, usually 
stronger in her than in the husband, inasmuch as there are 
fewer competing interests, saves her from abusing the prece- 
dence yielded to her. This seems to be true, but I have heard 
others maintain that the American system, since it does not 
require the wife habitually to forego her own wishes, tends, 
if not to make her self-indulgent and capricious, yet slightly 
to impair the more delicate charms of character ; as it is writ- 
ten, " It is more blessed to give than to receive." 

A European cannot spend an evening in an American draw- 
ing-room without perceiving that the attitude of men to women 
is not that with which he is familiar at home. The average 
European man has usually a slight sense of condescension 
when he talks to a woman on serious subjects. Even if she is 



chat, eviii POSITION OF WOMEN 7:)!) 

his superior in intellect, in character, in social rank, he thinks 
that as a man he is her superior, and consciously or uncon- 
sciously talks clown to her. She is too much accustomed to this 
to resent it, unless it becomes tastelessly palpable. Such a 
notion does not cross an American's mind. He talks to a 
woman just as he would to a man, of course with more defer- 
ence of manner, and with a proper regard to the topics likely 
to interest her, but giving her his intellectual best, addressing 
her as a person whose opinion is understood by both to be 
worth as much as his own. Similarly an American lady does 
not expect to have conversation made to her. It is just as 
much her duty or pleasure to lead it as the man's is, and more 
often than not she takes the burden from him, darting along 
with a gay vivacity which puts to shame his slower wits. 

It need hardly be said that in all cases where the two sexes 
come into competition for comfort, the provision is made first 
for women. In railroads the end car of the train, being that 
farthest removed from the smoke of the locomotive, is often 
reserved for them (though men accompanying a lady are 
allowed to enter it), and at hotels their sitting-room is the 
best and sometimes the only available public room, ladyless 
guests being driven to the bar or the hall. In omnibuses and 
horse-cars (tram-cars) it was formerly the custom for a gen- 
tleman to rise and offer his seat to a lady if there were no 
vacant place. This is now less universally done. In New York 
and Boston (and I think also in San Francisco), I have seen 
the men keep their seats when ladies entered ; and I recollect 
one occasion when the offer of a seat to a lady was declined 
by her, on the ground that as she had chosen to enter a full 
car she ought to take the consequences. It was (I was told in 
Boston) a feeling of this kind that had led to the discontinu- 
ance of the old courtesy. When ladies constantly pressed 
into the already crowded vehicles, the men, who could not 
secure the enforcement of the regulations against overcrowd- 
ing, tried to protect themselves by refusing to rise. It is 
sometimes said that the privileges yielded to American women 
have disposed them to claim as a right what was only a cour- 
tesy, and have told unfavourably upon their manners. I know 
of several instances, besides this one of the horse-cars, which 
might seem to support the criticism, but cannot on the whole 



740 SOCIAL INSTITUTIONS part vi 

think it well founded. The better bred women do not presume 
on their sex ; and the area of good breeding is always widening. 
It need hardly be said that the community at large gains by 
the softening and restraining influence which the reverence 
for womanhood diffuses. Nothing so quickly incenses the 
people as any insult offered to a woman. Wife-beating, and 
indeed any kind of rough violence offered to women, is far less 
common among the rudest class than it is in England. Field 
work or work at the pit-mouth of mines is seldom or never 
done by women in America ; and the American traveller who 
in some parts of Europe finds women performing severe 
manual labour is revolted by the sight in a way which Euro- 
peans find surprising. 

In the farther West, that is to say, beyond the Mississippi, 
in the Rocky Mountain and Pacific States, one is much struck 
by what seems the absence of the humblest class of women. 
The trains are full of poorly dressed and sometimes (though 
less frequently) rough-mannered men. One discovers no 
women whose dress or air marks them out as the wives, daugh- 
ters, or sisters of these men, and wonders whether the male 
population is celibate, and if so, why there are so many women. 
Closer observation shows that the wives, daughters, and sisters 
are there, only their attire and manner are those of what Euro- 
peans would call middle class and not working class people. 
This is partly due to the fact that Western men affect a rough 
dress. Still one may say that the remark so often made that 
the masses of the American people correspond to the middle 
class of Europe is more true of the women than of the men, 
and is more true of them in the rural districts and in the West 
than it is of the inhabitants of Atlantic cities. I remember to 
have been dawdling in a book-store in a small town in Oregon 
when a lady entered to inquire if a monthly magazine, whose 
name was unknown to me, had yet arrived. When she was 
gone I asked the salesman who she was, and what was the 
periodical she wanted. He answered that she was the wife of 
a railway workman, that the magazine was a journal of fashions, 
and that the demand for such journals was large and constant 
among women of the wage-earning class in the town. This 
set me to observing female dress more closely, and it turned 
out to be perfectly true that the women in these little towns 



OTAP.Ovni POSITION OF WOMEN 711 

were following the Parisian fashions very closely, and were, in 
tact, ahead of the majority of English ladies belonging to the 
professional and mercantile classes. 1 Of course in such a town 
as I refer to there are no domestic servants except in the 
hotels (indeed, almost the only domestic service to be had in 
the Pacific States was till very recently that of Chinese), so 
these votaries of fashion did all their own housework and 
looked after their own babies. 

Three causes combine to create among American women an 
average of literary taste and influence higher than that of 
women in any European country. These are, the educational 
facilities they enjoy, the recognition of the equality of the 
sexes in the whole social and intellectual sphere, and the 
leisure which they possess as compared with men. In a coun- 
try where men are incessantly occupied at their business or 
profession, the function of keeping up the level of culture 
devolves upon women. It is safe in their hands. They are 
quick and keen-witted, less fond of open-air life and physical 
exertion than Englishwomen are, and obliged by the climate 
to pass a greater part of their time under shelter from 
the cold of winter and the sun of summer. For music and 
for the pictorial arts they do not yet seem to have formed so 
strong a taste as for literature, partly perhaps owing to the 
fact that in America the opportunities of seeing and hearing 
masterpieces, except indeed operas, are rarer than in Europe. 
But they are eager and assiduous readers of all such books 
and periodicals as do not presuppose special knowledge in 
some branch of science or learning, while the number who 
have devoted themselves to some special study and attained 
proficiency in it is large. The fondness for sentiment, espe- 
cially moral and domestic sentiment, which is often observed 
as characterizing American taste in literature, seems to be 
mainly due to the influence of women, for they form not only 
the larger part of the reading public, but an independent- 
minded part, not disposed to adopt the canons laid down by 
men, and their preferences count for more in the opinions and 
predilections of the whole nation than is the case in England. 

1 The above, of course, does not apply to the latest immigrants from Europe, 
who are still European in their dress and ways, though in a town they become 
quickly Americaiii/.<-'l. 



742 SOCIAL INSTITUTIONS part vi 

Similarly the number of women who write is infinitely larger 
in America than in Europe. Fiction, essays, and poetry are 
naturally their favourite provinces. In poetry more particu- 
larly, many whose names are quite unknown in Europe have 
attained widespread fame. 

Some one may ask how far the differences between the posi- 
tion of women in America and their position in Europe are 
due to democracy ? or if not to this, then to what other cause ? 

They are due to democratic feeling in so far as they spring 
from the notion that all men are free and equal, possessed of 
certain inalienable rights, and owing certain corresponding 
duties. This root idea of democracy cannot stop at defining 
men as male human beings, any more than it could ultimately 
stop at defining them as white human beings. Eor many years 
the Americans believed in equality with the pride of discoverers 
as well as with the fervour of apostles. Accustomed to apply 
it to all sorts and conditions of men, they were naturally the 
first to apply it to women also ; not, indeed, as respects poli- 
tics, but in all the social as well as legal relations of life. 
Democracy is in America more respectful of the individual, 
less disposed to infringe his freedom or subject him to any 
sort of legal or family control, than it has shown itself in 
Continental Europe, and this regard for the individual enured 
to the benefit of women. Of the other causes that have 
worked in the same direction two may be mentioned. One is 
the usage of the Congregationalist, Presbyterian, and Baptist 
churches, under which a woman who is a member of the con- 
gregation has the same rights in choosing a deacon, elder, or 
pastor, as a man has. Another is the fact that among the 
westward-moving settlers women were at first few in number, 
and were therefore treated with special respect. The habit 
then formed was retained as the communities grew, and propa- 
gated itself all over the country. 

What have been the results on the character and usefulness 
of women themselves ? 

Favourable. They have opened to them a wider life and 
more variety of career. While the special graces of the femi- 
nine character do not appear to have suffered, there has been 
produced a sort of independence and a capacity for self-help 
which are increasingly valuable as the number of unmarried 



chap, o in POSITION OF WOMEN 743 

women increases. More resources are open to an American 
woman who lias to Lead a solitary life, not merely in the way 
of employment, but for the occupation of her mind and tastes, 
than to a European spinster or widow; while her education 
lias not rendered the American wife less competent for the 
discharge of household duties. 

How has the nation at large been affected by the develop- 
ment of this new type of womanhood, or rather perhaps of 
this variation on the English type ? 

If women have on the whole gained, it is clear that the 
nation gains through them. As mothers they mould the char- 
acter of their children ; while the function of forming the 
habits of society and determining its moral tone rests greatly 
in their hands. But there is reason to think that the influ- 
ence of the American system tells directly for good upon men 
as well as upon the whole community. Men gain in being 
brought to treat women as equals rather than as graceful play- 
things or useful drudges. The respect for women which every 
American man either feels or is obliged by public sentiment 
to profess, has a wholesome effect on his conduct and char- 
acter, and serves to check the cynicism which some other 
peculiarities of the country foster. The nation as a whole 
owes to the active benevolence of its women, and their zeal 
in promoting social reforms, benefits which the customs of 
Continental Europe would scarcely have permitted women to 
confer. Europeans have of late years begun to render a well- 
deserved admiration to the brightness and vivacity of Ameri- 
can ladies. Those who know the work they have clone and 
are doing in many a noble cause will admire still more their 
energy, their courage, their self-devotion. No country seems 
to owe more to its women than America does, nor to owe to 
them so much of what is best in social institutions and in the 
beliefs that govern conduct. 



CHAPTER CIX 

EQUALITY 

The United States are deemed all the world over to be pre- 
eminently the land of equality. This was the first feature 
which struck Europeans when they began, after the peace of 
1815 had left them time to look beyond the Atlantic, to feel 
curious about the phenomena of a new society. This was the 
great theme of Tocqueville's description, and the starting- 
point of his speculations; this has been the most constant 
boast of the Americans themselves, who have believed their 
liberty more complete than that of any other people, because 
equality has been more fully blended with it. Yet some phi- 
losophers say that equality is impossible, and others, who ex- 
press themselves more precisely, insist that distinctions of 
rank are so inevitable, that however you try to expunge them, 
they are sure to reappear. Before we discuss this question, 
let us see in what senses the word is used. 

First there is legal equality, including both what one may 
call passive or private equality, i.e. the equal possession of 
civil private rights by all inhabitants, and active or public 
equality, the equal possession by all of rights to a share in 
the government, such as the electoral franchise and eligi- 
bility to public office. Both kinds of political equality exist 
in America, in the amplest measure, and may be dismissed 
from the present discussion. 

Next there is the equality of material conditions, that is of 
wealth, and all that wealth gives ; there is the equality of edu- 
cation and intelligence; there is the equality of social status 
or rank; and there is (what comes near to, but is not exactly 
the same as, this last) the equality of estimation, i.e. of the 
value which men set upon one another, whatever be the ele- 
ments that come into this value, whether wealth, or education, 

744 



ohap. ctx Equality 745 

or official rank, or social rank, or any other species of excel 
lence. In how many ami which ol' these senses of the word 
does equality exist, in the United States*.' 

Clearly not as regards material conditions. Sixty years ago 
there were no great fortunes in America, few large fortunes, 
no poverty. Now there is some poverty (though only in a 
few places can it be called pauperism), many large fortunes, 
and a greater number of gigantic fortunes than in any other 
country of the world. The class of persons who are passably 
well oft" but not rich, a class corresponding in point of income 
to the lower middle class of England or France, but superior 
in manners, is much larger than in the great countries of 
Europe. Between the houses, the dress, and the way of life 
of these persons, and those of the richer sort, there is less 
difference than in Europe. The very rich do not (except in 
a few places) make an ostentatious display of their wealth, 
because they have no means of doing so, and a visitor is 
therefore apt to overrate the extent to which equality of 
wealth, and of material conditions generally, still prevails. 
The most remarkable phenomenon of the last twenty-five years 
has been the appearance, not only of those few colossal mil- 
lionaires who fill the public eye, but of many millionaires of 
the second orfler, men with fortunes ranging from $5,000,000 
to $15,000,000. At a seaside resort like Newport, where one 
sees the finished luxury of the villas, and counts the well- 
appointed equipages, with their superb horses, which turn out 
in the afternoon, one gets some impression of the vast and 
growing wealth of the Eastern cities. But through the coun- 
try generally there is little to mark out the man with an 
income of £20,000 a year from the man of £1000, as he is 
marked out in England by his country house with its park, 
or in France by the opportunities for display which Paris 
affords. The number of these fortunes seems likely to go on 
increasing, for they are due not merely to the sudden devel- 
opment of the West, with the chances of making vast sums by 
land speculation or in railway construction, but to the field 
for doing business on a great scale, which the size of the coun- 
try presents. Where a merchant or manufacturer in France 
or England could realize thousands, an American, operating- 
more boldly, and on this far wider theatre, may realize tens 



746 SOCIAL INSTITUTIONS part vi 

of thousands. We may therefore except these inequalities 
of wealth to grow; nor will even the habit of equal division 
among children keep them down, for families are often small, 
and though some of those who inherit wealth may renounce 
business, others will pursue it, since the attractions of other 
kinds of life are fewer than in Europe. Politics are less inter- 
esting, there is no great land-holding class with the duties 
towards tenants and neighbours which an English squire may, 
if he pleases, usefully discharge; the pursuit of collecting 
pictures or other objects of curiosity implies frequent visits 
to Europe, and although the killing of birds prevails in the 
Middle States and the killing of deer in the West, this rather 
barbarous form of pleasure is likely in time to die out from a 
civilized people. Other kinds of what is called "sport" no 
doubt remain, such as horse-racing, eagerly pursued in the 
form of trotting matches, 1 and the manlier amusements of 
yacht-racing, rowing, and base-ball, but these can only be 
followed during part of the year, and some of them only by 
the young. To lead a life of so-called pleasure gives much 
more trouble in an American city than it does in Paris or 
Vienna or London. Accordingly, while many great fortunes 
will continue to be made, they will be less easily and quickly 
spent than in Europe, and one may surmise tha^ the equality 
of material conditions, almost universal in last century, still 
general sixty years ago, will more and more diminish by the 
growth of a very rich class at one end of the line, and of a 
very poor class at the other end. 2 

As respects education, the profusion of superior as well as 
elementary schools tends to raise the mass to a somewhat 
higher point than in Europe, while the stimulus of life being 
keener and the habit of reading more general, the number of 
persons one finds on the same general level of brightness, 
keenness, and a superficially competent knowledge of common 
facts, whether in science, history, geography, or literature, 
is extremely large. This general level tends to rise. But the 

1 The trotting horse is driven, not ridden, a return to the earliest forms of 
horse-racing we know of. 

2 How far inequality of material conditions, as contrasted with political 
equality, is likely to prove a source of political danger is a question discussed 
in other chapters. Hitherto it has not proved serious. Cf. Aristotle, Pol. 
V., 1, 2. 



EQUALITY 747 



level oi' exceptional attainment in that small hut increasing 
class who have studied at the best native universities or in 
Europe, and who pursue learning and science either as a pro- 
fession or as a source of pleasure, rises faster than does the 
general level of the multitude, so that in this regard also it 
appears that equality has diminished and will diminish 
further. 

So far we have been on comparatively smooth and easy 
ground. Equality of wealth is a concrete thing; equality of 
intellectual possession and resource is a thing which can be 
perceived and gauged. Of social equality, of distinctions of 
standing and estimation in private life, it is far more difficult 
to speak, and in what follows I speak with some hesitation. 

One thing, and perhaps one thing only, may be asserted with 
confidence. There is no rank in America, that is to say, no 
external and recognized stamp, marking one man as entitled to 
any social privileges, or to deference and respect from others. 
Xo man is entitled to think himself better than his fellows, or 
to expect any exceptional consideration to be shown by them 
to him. There is no such thing as a recognized order of prece- 
dence, either on public occasions or at a private party, except 
that yielded to a few official persons, such as the governor and 
chief judges of a State within that State, as well as to the 
President and Vice-President, the Speaker of the House, the 
Federal senators, the judges of the Supreme Federal Court, 
and the members of the President's cabinet everywhere through 
the Union. In fact, the idea of a regular " rule of precedence " 
displeases the Americans, 1 and one finds them slow to believe 
that the existence of such a rule in England entitling the 
youthful daughter of a baronet, for instance, to go first out of 
the room at a dinner party on the host's arm, although there 
may be present married ladies both older and of some per- 
sonal distinction, is not felt as a mortification by the latter 
ladies, because it is a mere matter of convention and usage 
which does not prevent the other guests from respecting these 
wives of ordinary commoners much more than they may re- 

1 In private parties, so far as there is any rule of precedence, it is that of 
age, with a tendency to make an exception in favour of clergymen or of any 
person of special eminence. It is only in Washington, where senators, judges, 
ministers, and congressmen are sensitive on these points, that such questions 
■eem to arise, or to be regarded as deserving the attention of a rational mind. 



748 SOCIAL INSTITUTIONS part vi 

spect the baronet's daughter. That an obscure earl should 
take precedence of a great poet, or of a prime minister who 
happens to be a commoner, shocks Americans out of measure. 

What then is the effect or influence for social purposes of 
such distinctions as do exist between men, distinctions of 
birth, of wealth, of official position, of intellectual eminence? 

To be sprung from an ancient stock, or from a stock which 
can count persons of eminence among its ancestors, is of 
course a satisfaction to the man himself. There is at present 
almost a passion among Americans for genealogical researches. 
A good many families can trace themselves back to English 
families of the sixteenth or seventeenth century, and of course 
a great many more profess to do so. For a man's ancestors to 
have come over in the Mayflower is in America much what their 
having come over with William the Conqueror used to be in 
England, and is often claimed on equally flimsy grounds. 
The descendants of any of the revolutionary heroes, such as 
John Adams, Edmund Eandolph, Alexander Hamilton, and 
the descendants of any famous man of colonial times, such as 
the early governors of Massachusetts from William Endicott 
downwards, or of Jonathan Edwards, or of Eliot, the apostle 
of the Indians, are regarded by their neighbours with a certain 
amount of interest, and their legitimate pride in such an 
ancestry excites no disapproval. 1 In the Eastern cities, and 
at watering-places like Newport, one begins to see carriages 
with armorial bearings on their panels, but most people ap- 
pear to disapprove or ridicule this as a piece of Anglomania, 
more likely to be practised by a parvenu than by the scion of 
a really old family. Virginians used to set much store by 
their pedigrees, and the letters F.F.V. (First Families of Vir- 
ginia) had become a sort of jest against persons pluming them- 
selves on their social position in the Old Dominion. 2 Since 



1 In all the cases mentioned in the text I remember to have been told by- 
others, but never by the persons concerned, of the ancestry. This is an illus- 
tration of the fact that while such ancestry is felt to be a distinction it would 
be thought bad taste for those who possess it to mention it unless a necessity 
arose for them to do so. 

2 An anecdote is told of the captain of a steamer plying at a ferry from 
Maryland into Virginia, who being asked by a needy Virginian to give him a 
free passage across, inquired if the applicant belonged to one of the F.F.V. 
"No," answered the man, "I can't exactly say that; rather to one of the 



chap, ox EQUALITY 749 

the war, however, which has shattered old Virginian society 
from its foundations, one hears little of such pretensions. 1 

The fault which Americans are most frequently accused of 
is the worship of wealth. The amazing fuss which is made 
about very rich men, the descriptions of their doings, the 
speculation as to their intentions, the gossip about their private 
life, lend colour to the reproach. He who builds up a huge 
fortune, especially if he does it suddenly, is no doubt a sort 
of hero, because an enormous number of men have the same 
ambition. Having done best what millions are trying to do, 
he is discussed, admired, and envied in the same way as the 
captain of a cricket eleven is at a large school, or the stroke of 
the university boat at Oxford or Cambridge. If he be a great 
financier, or the owner of a great railroad or a great newspaper, 
he exercises vast power, and is therefore well worth courting 
by those who desire his help or would avert his enmity. 
Admitting all this, it may seem a paradox to observe that a 
millionaire has a better and easier social career open to him in 
England than in America. Nevertheless there is a sense in 
which this is true. In America, if his private character be 
bad, if he be mean, or openly immoral, or personally vulgar, or 
dishonest, the best society will keep its doors closed against 
him. In England great wealth, skilfully employed, will more 
readily force these doors to open. For in England great wealth 
can, by using the appropriate methods, practically buy rank 
from those who bestow it; or by obliging persons whose posi- 
tion enables them to command fashionable society, can induce 
them to stand sponsors for the upstart, and force him into 
society, a thing which no person in America has the power of 
doing. To effect such a stroke in England the rich man must 
of course have stopped short of positive frauds, that is, of such 
frauds as could be proved in court. But he may be still dis- 
trusted and disliked by the elite of the commercial world, he 
may be vulgar and ill-educated, and indeed have nothing to 
recommend him except his wealth and his willingness to spend 

second families." " Jump on board," said the captain ; " I never met one of 
your sort before." 

1 A few years ago a club was formed in New York to include only persons 
who could prove that their progenitors were settled in the State before the 
Revolution, and I daresay clubs exist elsewhere making similar claims to 
exclnsivem 



750 SOCIAL INSTITUTIONS part vi 

it in providing amusement for fashionable people. All this 
will not prevent him from becoming a baronet, or possibly a 
peer, and thereby acquiring a position of assured dignity which 
he can transmit to his offspring. The existence of a system of 
artificial rank enables a stamp to be given to base metal in 
Europe which cannot be given in a thoroughly republican 
country. 1 The feeling of the American public towards the 
very rich is, so far as a stranger can judge, one of curiosity and 
wonder rather than of respect. There is less snobbishness 
shown towards them than in England. They are admired as 
a famous runner or a jockey is admired, but do not seem to 
receive either flattery or social deference. When a man has 
won great wealth by the display of remarkable talents, as is 
the case with some of the manufacturers and railroad kings, 
the case is rather different, for it is felt that his gifts are a 
credit to the nation. 

The persons to whom official rank gives importance are very 
few indeed, being for the nation at large only about one hun- 
dred persons at the top of the Federal Government, and in 
each State less than a dozen of its highest State functionaries. 
For these State functionaries, indeed, the respect shown is 
extremely scanty, and much more official than personal. A 
high Federal officer, a senator, or justice of the Supreme court, 
or cabinet minister, is conspicuous while he holds his place, 
and is of course a personage in any private society he may 
enter; but less so than a corresponding official would be in 
Europe. A simple member of the House of Eepresentatives is 
nobody. Even men of the highest official rank do not give 
themselves airs on the score of their position. Once, in Wash- 
ington, I was taken by a friend to be presented to the Com- 
mander-in-chief of the United States army, a great soldier 
whose fame all the world knows. We found him standing at 
a desk in a bare room in the War Department, at work with 
one clerk. While he was talking to us the door of the room 
was pushed open, and there appeared the figure of a Western 

1 The English system of hereditary titles tends to maintain the distinction 
of ancient lineage far less perfectly than that simple use of a family name 
which prevailed in Italy during the Middle Ages, or in ancient Rome. A 
Colonna or a Doria, like a Cornelius or a Valerius, carried the glory of his 
nobility in his name, whereas any upstart may be created a duke. 



OHAP. on EQUALITY 751 

tourist belonging to what Europeans would call the lower 
middle class, followed by his wife and sister, who were " doing " 
Washington. Perceiving that the room was occupied they 
began to retreat, but the Commander-in-chief called them back. 
"Walk in, ladies," he said. "You can look around. You 
won't disturb me; make yourselves at home." 

Intellectual attainment does not excite much notice till it 
becomes eminent, that is to say, till it either places its possessor 
in a conspicuous position, such as that of president of one of 
the greatest universities, or till it has made him well known to 
the world as a preacher, or writer, or scientific discoverer. 
When this kind of eminence has been reached, it receives, I 
think, more respect than anywhere in Europe, except possibly 
in Italy, where the interest in learned men, or poets, or artists, 
seems to be greater than anywhere else in Europe. 1 A famous 
writer or divine is known by name to a far greater number of 
persons in America than would know a similar person in any 
European country. He is one of the glories of the country. 
There is no artificial rank to cast him into the shade. He is 
possibly less famous than the railroad kings or manipulators 
of the stock markets ; but he excites a different kind of senti- 
ment ; and people are willing to honour him in a way, some- 
times distasteful to himself, which could not be applied to the 
millionaire except by those who sought to gain something from 
him. 

Perhaps the best way of explaining how some of the differ- 
ences above mentioned, in wealth or official position or intel- 
lectual eminence, affect social equality is by reverting to what 
was called, a few pages back, equality of estimation — the 
idea which men form of other men as compared with them- 
selves. It is in this that the real sense of equality comes out. 
In America men hold others to be at bottom exactly the same 
as themselves. 2 If a man is enormously rich, like A. T. Stewart 
or William H. Vanderbilt, or if he is a great orator, like Daniel 

1 In Germany great respect is no doubt felt for the leaders of learning and 
science ; but they are regarded as belonging to a world of their own, separated 
by a wide gulf from the territorial aristocracy, which still deems itself (as in 
the days of Candide's brother-in-law) a different form of mankind from those 
who have not sixteen quarterings to show. 

2 Some one has said that there are in America two classes only, those who 
have siicce<Ml(;il ;ni'l those who liave failed. 



752 SOCIAL INSTITUTIONS part vi 

Webster or Henry Ward Beecher, or a great soldier like Ulysses 
S. Grant, or a great writer like E. W. Emerson, or President, 
so much the better for him. He is an object of interest, per- 
haps of admiration, possibly even of reverence. But he is 
deemed to be still of the same flesh and blood as other men. 
The admiration felt for him may be a reason for going to see 
him and longing to shake hands with him. But it is not a 
reason for bowing down to him, or addressing him in deferen- 
tial terms, or treating him as if he were porcelain and yourself 
only earthenware. 1 In this respect there is, I think, a differ- 
ence, slight but perceptible, between the sentiment of equality 
as it exists in the United States, and as one finds it in France 
and Switzerland, the countries of the Old World where (if we 
except Norway, which has never had an aristocracy) social 
equality has made the greatest progress. In France and 
Switzerland there lingers a kind of feeling as if the old noblesse 
were not quite like other men. The Swiss peasant, with all 
his manly independence, has in many cantons a touch of 
instinctive reverence for the old families ; or perhaps, in some 
other cantons, a touch of jealousy which makes him desire to 
exclude their members from office, because he feels that they 
still think themselves better than he is. Nothing like this is 
possible in America, where the very notion of such distinctions 
excites a wondering curiosity as to what sort of creature the 
titled noble of Europe can be. 

The total absence of rank and the universal acceptance of 
equality do not however prevent the existence of grades and 
distinctions in society which, though they may find no tangible 
expression, are sometimes as sharply drawn as in Europe. 
Except in the newer parts of the West, those who deem them- 
selves ladies and gentlemen draw just the same line between 
themselves and the multitude as is drawn in England, and draw 
it in much the same way. The nature of a man's occupation, 

1 This is seen even in the manner of American servants. Although there is 
an aversion among native Americans to enter domestic service, the temporary- 
discharge of such duties does not necessarily involve any loss of caste. More 
than twenty years ago I remember to have found all the waiting in a large 
hotel in the White Mountains done by the daughters of respectable New Eng- 
land farmers in the low country who had come up for their summer change of 
air to this place of resort, and were earning their board and lodging by acting 
as waitresses. They were treated by the guests as equals, and were indeed 
cultivated and well-mannered young women. 



chap, on EQUALITY 750 



his education, his manners and bleeding, his income, his con- 
nections, all come into view in determining whether lie is in 
this narrow sense of the word "a gentleman, w almost as they 
would in England, 1 though in most parts of the United States 

personal qualities count tor rather more than in England, and 
occupation tor rather less. The word is equally indefinable in 
both countries, but in America the expression "not quite a 
lady " seems to be less frequently employed. One is told, 
however, that the son of cultivated parents would not like to 
enter a retail store: and even in a Western city like Detroit 
the best people will say of a party that it was "very mixed." 
In some of the older cities society is as exclusive as in the 
more old-fashioned English counties, the "best set" consider- 
ing itself very select indeed. In such a city I remember to 
have heard a family belonging to the best set, which is mostly 
to be found in a particular quarter of the city, speak of the 
inhabitants of a handsome suburb two miles away just as 
Belgravians might speak of Islington; and the son of the 
family who, having made in Europe the acquaintance of some 
of the dwellers in this suburb, had gone to a ball there, was 
questioned by his sisters about their manners and customs much 
as if he had returned from visiting a tribe in Central Africa. 
On inquiry I discovered that these Xorth Shore people were as 
rich and doubtless thought themselves as cultivated as the peo- 
ple of my friend's quarter. But all the city knew that the 
latter were the "best set." One hears that this exclusiveness 
s [treads steadily from East to West, and that before long there 
will be such sets in all the greater cities. 

Europeans have been known to ask whether the United 
States do not suffer from the absence of a hereditary nobility. 
As may be supposed, such a question excites mirth in America; 
it is as if you were to offer them a Court and an Established 
Church. They remark, with truth, that since Pitt in England 
and the Xapoleons in Erance prostituted hereditary titles, these 
have ceased to be either respectable or useful. " They do not," 

1 On tin* New York elevated railroad smoking is not permitted in any car. 
"When [asked a conductor how he was ahle to enforce this rule, considering 
that on every other railway smoking was practised, lie answered, " I always 
say when any one seems disposed to insist, ' Sir, I am sure that if yon are a 
gentleman yon will not wish to bring me into a difficulty,' and then they always 
leave off." 

VOL. u 3 c 



754 SOCIAL INSTITUTIONS part vi 

say the Americans, " suggest antiquity, for the English families 
that enjoy them are mostly new ; they are not associated, like 
the ancient titles, with the history of your nation; they are 
merely a prize offered to wealth, the expression of a desire for 
gilding that plutocracy which has replaced the ancient aris- 
tocracy of your country. Seeing how little service hereditary 
nobility renders in maintaining the standard either of manners, 
or morals, 1 or honour, or public duty, few sensible men would 
create it in any European country where it did not exist ; much 
less then should we dream of creating it in America, which 
possesses none of the materials or conditions which could make 
it tolerable. If a peerage is purchaseable even in England, 
where the dignity of the older nobility might have suggested 
some care in bestowal, purchaseable not so openly as in Portu- 
gal or a German principality, but practically purchaseable by 
party services and by large subscriptions to public purposes, 
much more would it be purchaseable here, where there are no 
traditions to break down, where wealth accumulates rapidly, 
and the wealthy seek every avenue for display. Titles in this 
country would be simply an additional prize offered to wealth 
and ambition. They could not be respected. They would 
make us as snobbish as you are. They would be an unmixed 
evil." A European observer will not quarrel with this judg- 
ment. There is already a disposition in America, as every- 
where else, to relish and make the most of such professional 
or official titles as can be had; it is a harmless way of trying 
to relieve the monotony of the world. If there be, as no doubt 
there is, less disposition than in England to run after and pay 
court to the great or the fashionable, this is perhaps due not to 
any superior virtue, but to the absence of those opportunities 
and temptations which their hereditary titles and other social 
institutions set before the English. It would be the very 
wantonness of folly to create in the new country what most 
thinking people would gladly be rid of in the old one. 

Another question is more serious and less easily answered. 
What is the effect of social equality upon manners ? Many 

1 The moral and social standard which American society enforces is in some 
respects more exacting than that of England. I have frequently heard Ameri- 
cans express surprise at the reception accorded by fashionable London to 
Americans whom they held cheap, or to persons, whether English or foreign, 
whose transgressions had become matter of notoriety. 



chat, cix EQUALITY 755 

causes go to the making of manners, as one may see by noting 
how much better they are in some parts of Europe than 
in other parts where, nevertheless, the structure of society is 
equally aristocratic, or democratic, as the case may be. 1 One 
must therefore be careful not to ascribe to this source only 
such peculiarities as America shows. On the whole, bearing 
in mind that the English race has less than some other races 
of that quickness of perception and sympathy which goes far 
to make manners good, the Americans have gained more than 
the}' have lost by equality. I do not think that the upper 
class loses in grace, I am sure that the humbler class gains in 
independence. The manners of the " best people " are exactly 
those of England, with a thought more of consideration 
towards inferiors and of frankness towards equals. Among 
the masses there is, generally speaking, as much real courtesy 
and good nature as anywhere else in the world. 2 There is less 
outward politeness than in some parts of Europe, Portugal for 
instance, or Tuscany, or Sweden. There is a certain coolness 
or off-handness which at first annoys the European visitor, 
who still thinks himself " a superior " ; but when he perceives 
that it is not meant for insolence, and that native Americans 
do not notice it, he learns to acquiesce. Perhaps the worst 
manners are those of persons dressed in some rag of authority. 
The railroad car-conductor has a bad name ; but personally I 
have always been well treated by him, and remember with 
pleasure one on a Southern railroad (an ex-Confederate sol- 
dier) who did the honours of his car with a dignified courtesy 
worthy of those Hungarian nobles who are said to have the 
best manners in Europe. The hotel clerk is supercilious, but 
if one frankly admits his superiority, his patronage becomes 
friendly, and he may even condescend to interest himself in 
making your stay in the city agreeable. One finds most cour- 

1 It was an old reproach in Europe against republics that their citizens 
were rude: witness the phrases, "nianieres d'un Suisse," "civilise en Hol- 
lande " (Roscher, Politik, p. 314). 

2 There are parts of the West which still lack polish ; and the behaviour of 
the whites to the Chinese often incenses a stranger from the Atlantic States 
or Europe. I remember in Oregon to have seen a huge navvy turn an inoffen- 
sive Chinaman out of his seat in a railway car, and when I went to the con- 
ductor and tried to induce him to interfere, he calmly remarked, " Yes, I know 
those things do make the English mad." On the other hand, on the Pacific 
slope, coloured people often sit down to table with whites. 



756 SOCIAL INSTITUTIONS part vi 

tesy among the rural population of New England and the Mid- 
dle States, least among the recent immigrants in the cities and 
the unsettled population of the West. However, the most mate- 
rial point to remark is the improvement of recent years. The 
concurrent testimony of European travellers, including both 
admirers and detractors of democracy, proves that manners 
must have been disagreeable fifty years ago, and one finds 
nowadays an equally general admission that the Americans are 
as pleasant to one another and to strangers as are the Erench 
or the Germans or the English. The least agreeable feature 
to the visitors of former years, an incessant vaunting of their 
own country and disparagement of others, has disappeared, 
and the tinge of self-assertion which the sense of equality 
used to give is now but faintly noticeable. 



CHAPTER CX 

THE INFLUENCE OF DEMOCRACY ON THOUGHT 

Two opposite theories regarding the influence of democratic 
institutions on intellectual activity have found currency. One 
theory extols them because they stimulate the mind of a 
people, not only sharpening men's wits by continual struggle 
and unrest, but giving to each citizen a sense of his own 
powers and duties in the world, which spurs him on to exer- 
tions in ever-widening fields. This theory is commonly 
applied to Athens and other democracies of the ancient world, 
as contrasted with Sparta and the oligarchic cities, whose 
intellectual production was scanty or altogether wanting. It 
compares the Eome of Cicero, Lucretius, and Catullus, and 
the Augustan age, whose great figures were born under the 
Republic, with the vaster but comparatively sterile Roman 
world of Marcus Aurelius or Constantine, when freedom had 
long since vanished. It notes the outburst of literary and 
artistic splendour that fell in the later age of the republics of 
mediaeval Italy, and dwells with especial pleasure on the 
achievements of Florence, the longest-lived and the most glo- 
rious of the free commonwealths of Italy. 

According to the other theory, Democracy is the child of 
ignorance, the parent of dulness and conceit. The opinion of 
the greatest number being the universal standard, everything 
is reduced to the level of vulgar minds. Originality is stunted, 
variety disappears, no man thinks for himself, or, if he does, 
fears to express what he thinks. A drear pall of monotony 
covers the sky. 

" Thy hand, great Anarch, lets the curtain fall 
And universal darkness buries all." 

This doctrine seems to date from the appearance of Tocque- 
villn's book, though his professed disciples have pushed it 



?58 SOCIAL INSTITUTIONS part vi 

much further than his words warrant. It is really an a priori 
doctrine, drawn from imagining what the consequences of a 
complete equality of material conditions and political powers 
ought to be. But it claims to rest upon the observed phenom- 
ena of the United States, which, thirty years ago, were still 
the only great modern democracy; and it was with reference 
to the United States that it was enunciated by Mr. Eobert 
Lowe in one of those speeches of 1866 which so greatly im- 
pressed his contemporaries. 

Both these theories will be found on examination to be base- 
less. Both, so far as they are a priori theories, are fanciful; 
both, in so far as they purport to rest upon the facts of history, 
err by regarding one set of facts only, and ignoring a great 
number of concomitant conditions which have probably more 
to do with the result than the few conditions which have been 
arbitrarily taken to be sufficient causes. None of the Greek 
republics was a democracy in the modern sense, for all rested 
upon slavery; nor, indeed, can the name be applied, except at 
passing moments, to any of the Italian cities. Many circum- 
stances besides their popular government combined to place 
the imperishable crown of literary and artistic glory upon the 
brows of the city of the Violet and the city of the Lily. So 
also the view that a democratic land is necessarily a land of 
barren monotony, while unsound even as a deduction from 
general principles, is still more unsound in its assumption of 
certain phenomena as true of America, and in the face it puts 
on the phenomena it has assumed. The theorists who have 
propounded it give us, like Daniel, the dream as well as their 
interpretation of it. But the dream is one of their own in- 
venting; and such as it is, it is wrongly interpreted. 

It is a common mistake to exaggerate the influence of forms 
of government. As there are historians and politicians who, 
when they come across a trait of national character for which 
no obvious explanation presents itself, set it down to "race," 
so there are writers and speakers who, too indolent to exam- 
ine the whole facts of the case, or too ill-trained to feel the 
need of such examination, pounce upon the political institu- 
tions of a country as the easiest way to account for its social 
and intellectual, perhaps even for its moral and religious, pecu- 
liarities. Few problems are in reality more complex than the 



cuxv. ex INFLUENCE OF DEMOCRACY ON THOUGHT 759 

relation between the political and the intellectual life of a 
country; few things more difficult to distinguish than the 
influences respectively attributable to an equality of political 
rights and powers on the one hand, and an equality of material 
and social conditions on the other. It is commonly assumed 
that Democracy and Equality go hand in hand, but as one may 
have popular government along with enormous differences of 
wealth and dissimilarities in social usage, so also one may 
have social equality under a despot. Doubtless, when social 
and political equality go hand in hand they intensify one 
another; but when inequality of material conditions becomes 
marked, social life changes, and as social phenomena become 
more complex their analysis becomes more difficult. 

Reverting to the two theories from which we set out, it may 
be said that the United States furnish little support to either. 
American democracy has certainly produced no age of Peri- 
cles. Neither has it dwarfed literature and led a wretched 
people, so dull as not even to realize their dulness, into a 
barren plain of featureless mediocrity. To ascribe the defi- 
ciencies, such as they are, of art and culture in America, solely 
or even mainly to her form of government, is not less absurd 
than to ascribe, as many Americans of what I may call the 
trumpeting school do, her marvellous material progress to the 
same cause. It is not Democracy that has paid off a gigan- 
tic debt and raised Chicago out of a swamp. Neither is it 
Democracy that has hitherto denied the United States philoso- 
phers like Burke and poets like Wordsworth. 

Most writers who have dealt with these matters have not 
only laid more upon the shoulders of democratic government 
than it ought to bear, but have preferred abstract speculations 
to the humbler task of ascertaining and weighing the facts. 
They have spun ingenious theories about democracy as the 
source of this or that, or whatever it pleased them to assume; 
they have not tried to determine by a wide induction what 
specific results appear in countries which, differing in other 
respects, agree in being democratically governed. If I do not 
follow these time-honoured precedents, it is not because the 
process is difficult, but because it is unprofitable. These 
speculations have perhaps had their use in suggesting to us 
what phenomena we ought to look for in democratic countries; 



760 SOCIAL INSTITUTIONS part vi 

but if any positive results are to be reached, ' they must be 
reached by carefully verifying the intellectual phenomena of 
more than one country, and establishing an unmistakable 
relation between them and the political institutions under 
which they prevail. 

If some one, starting from the current conception of demo- 
cracy, were to say that in a democratic nation we should find a 
disposition to bold and unbridled speculations, sparing neither 
theology nor morals, a total absence of rule, tradition, and pre- 
cedent, each man thinking and writing as responsible to no 
criticism, " every poet his own Aristotle/' a taste for strong 
effects and garish colours, valuing force rather than fineness, 
grandeur rather than beauty, a vigorous, hasty, impetuous 
style of speaking and writing, a grandiose, and perhaps sen- 
sational art : he would say what would be quite as natural and 
reasonable a priori as most of the pictures given us of demo- 
cratic societies. Yet many of the suggested features would be 
the opposite of those which America presents. 

Every such picture must be fanciful. He who starts from so 
simple and (so to speak) bare a conception as that of equal 
civil rights and equal political powers vested in every member 
of the community cannot but have recourse to his fancy in 
trying to body forth the results of this principle. Let any 
one study the portrait of the democratic man and democratic 
city which the first and greatest of all the hostile critics of 
democracy has left us, 1 and compare it with the very different 
descriptions, of life and culture under a popular government 
in which European speculation has disported itself since 
Tocqueville's time. He will find each theory plausible in 
the abstract, and each equally unlike the facts which contem- 
porary America sets before us. 

Let us then bid farewell to fancy and endeavour to dis- 
cover what are now the salient intellectual features of the 
mass of the native population in the United States. 

As there is much difference of opinion regarding them, I 
present with diffidence the following list : — 

1 Plato indeed indulges his fancy so far as to describe the very mules and 
asses of a democracy as prancing along the roads, scarcely deigning to bear 
their burdens. The passion for unrestrained licence, for novelty, for variety, 
is to him the note of democracy, whereas monotony and even obstinate con- 
servatism are the faults which the latest European critics bid us expect. 



chvp. .x INFLUENCE OF DEMOCRACY ON THOUGHT 70] 

1. A desire to be abreast of the best thought and work of 
the world everywhere, to have every form of literature and 
art adequately represented, and excellent of its kind, so that 
America shall be felt to hold her own among the nations. 

2. A fondness for bold and striking effects, a preference 
for large generalizations and theories which have an air of 
completeness. 

3. An absence among the multitude of refined taste, with a 
disposition to be attracted rather by brilliance than by deli- 
cacy of workmanship; a want of mellowness and inadequate 
perception of the difference between first-rate work in a quiet 
style and mere flatness. 

4. Little respect for canons or traditions, accompanied by 
the notion that new conditions must of necessity produce new 
ideas. 

5. An undervaluing of special knowledge or experience, ex- 
cept in applied science and in commerce, an idea that an able 
man can do one thing pretty*much as well as another, as Dr. 
Johnson thought that if he had taken to politics he would 
have been as distinguished therein as he was in tragic poetry. 

6. An admiration for literary or scientific eminence, an 
enthusiasm for anything that can be called genius, with an 
over-readiness to discover it. 

7. A love of intellectual novelties. 

8. An intellectual impatience, and desire for quick and 
patent results. 

9. An over-valuing of the judgments of the multitude; a 
disposition to judge by newspaper " success " work which has 
not been produced with a view to such success. 

10. A tendency to mistake bigness for greatness. 
Contrariwise, if we regard not the people generally but the 

most cultivated class, we shall find, together with a few of 
the above-mentioned qualities, others which indicate a reac- 
tion against the popular tendencies. This class has a strong 
relish for subtlety of thought and highly finished art, whether 
in literature or painting. It is so much afraid of crudity and 
vagueness as to be prone to devote itself to minute and care- 
ful study of subjects unattractive to the masses. 

Of these characteristics of the people at large some may at 
first si^ht seem inconsistent with others, as for instance the 



762 SOCIAL INSTITUTIONS 



admiration for intellectual gifts with the undervaluing of 
special knowledge ; nevertheless it could be shown that both 
are discoverable in Americans as compared with Englishmen. 
The former admire intelligence more than the latter do; but 
they defer less to special competence. However, assuming 
for the moment that there is something true in these sugges- 
tions, which it would take too long to attempt to establish one 
by one, be it observed that very few of them can be directly 
connected with democratic government. Even these few 
might take a different form in a differently situated demo- 
cracy. The seventh and eighth seem due to the general intel- 
ligence and education of the people, while the remainder, 
though not wholly uninfluenced by the habits which popular 
government tends to breed, must be mainly ascribed to the 
vast size of the country, the vast numbers and intellectual 
homogeneity of its native white population, the prevalence of 
social equality, a busy industrialism, a restless changefulness 
of occupation, and the absence of a leisured class dominant in 
matters of taste — conditions that have little or nothing to do 
with political institutions. The prevalence of evangelical 
Protestantism has been quite as important a factor in the 
intellectual life of the nation as its form of government. 

Some one may say — I wish to state the view fairly though 
I do not entirely agree with it — that assuming the foregoing 
analysis to be correct, the influence of democracy, apart from 
its tendency to secure an ample provision of education, is dis- 
cernible in two points. It produces self-confidence and self- 
complacency, national and personal, with the result both of 
stimulating a certain amount of thought and of preventing the 
thought that is so produced from being subjected to proper 
tests. Ambition and self-esteem will call out what might 
have lain dormant, but they will hinder a nation as well as a 
man from duly judging its own work, and in so far will retard 
its progress. Those who are naturally led to trust and obey 
common sense and the numerical majority in matters of state, 
overvalue the judgment of the majority in other matters. 
Now the judgment of the masses is a poor standard for the 
thinker or the artist to set before him. It may narrow his 
view and debase his style. He fears to tread in new paths or 
express unpopular opinions; or if he despises the multitude 



chat, ex INFLUENCE OF DEMOCRACY ON THOUGHT 703 

he may take refuge in an acrid cynicism. Where the masses 

rule, a writer cannot but think of the masses, and as they do 
not appreciate refinements he will eschew these, making him- 
self at all hazards intelligible to the common mind, and seek- 
ing to attract by broad, perhaps coarsely broad, effects, the 
hasty reader, who leaves Walter Scott or Thackeray unread to 
fasten on the latest sketch of fashionable life or mysterious 
crime. 

I do not deny that there is some force in this way of put- 
ting the case. Democracy tends to produce a superficially 
active public, and perhaps also a jubilant and self-confident 
public. But it is quite possible to have a democratic people 
which shall be neither fond of letters nor disposed to trust its 
own judgment and taste in judging them. Much will depend 
on the other features of the situation. In the United States 
the cultivated public increases rapidly, and the very reaction 
which goes on within it against the defects of the multitude 
becomes an important factor. All things considered, I doubt 
whether democracy tends to discourage originality, subtlety, 
refinement, in thought and in expression, whether literary or 
artistic. I doubt if there be any solid ground for expecting 
monotony or vulgarity under one form of government more 
than another. The causes lie deeper. Art and literature 
have before now been base and vulgar under absolute mon- 
archies and under oligarchies. One of the most polished and 
aristocratic societies in Europe has for two centuries been that 
of Vienna; yet what society could have been intellectually 
duller or less productive? Venice was almost the only famous 
Italian city that contributed nothing to the literature of the 
Middle Ages and the Eenaissance. Moreover, it must not 
be forgotten that the habits of popular government which 
open a career to talent in public life, open it in literature also. 
Xo man need lean on a faction or propitiate a coterie. A pure 
clear voice with an unwonted message may at first fail to 
make itself heard over the din of competitors for popular 
favour; but once heard, it and its message will probably be 
judged on their own merits. 

Passing away from this question as to the supposed narcotic 
power of democracy, the further question may be asked, What 
is the distinctive note of democratic thought and art as they 



764 SOCIAL INSTITUTIONS part n 

actually appear in the United States? What is the peculiar 
quality or flavour which springs from this political element 
in their condition? I cannot tell. I find no such note. I 
have searched for it, and, as the Americans say, it is hard 
work looking for what is not there. Some Europeans and 
many Americans profess to have found it, and will tell you 
that this or that peculiarity of American literature is due to 
democracy. No doubt, if you take individual writers, you 
may discover in several of them something, though not always 
the same thing, which savours of democratic feeling and tinges 
their way of regarding human life. But that is not enough. 
What must be shown is a general quality running through the 
majority of these writers — a quality which is at once recog- 
nized as racy of the soil, and which can be traced back to the 
democratic element which the soil undoubtedly contains. No 
such quality seems to have been shown. That there is a 
distinctive note in many — not, perhaps, in all — of the best 
American books may be admitted. It may be caught by ears 
not the most delicate. But is this note the voice of democracy? 
Is it even the voice of democracy and equality combined? 
There is a difference, slight yet perceptible, in the part which 
both sentiment and humour play in American books, when 
we compare them with English books of equivalent strength. 
The humour has a vein of oddity, and the contrast between the 
soft copiousness of the sentiment and the rigid lines of linger- 
ing Puritanism which it suffuses, is rarely met with in England. 
Perhaps there is less repose in the American style; there is 
certainly a curious unrestfulness in the effort, less common in 
English writers, to bend metaphors to unwonted uses. But 
are these differences, with others I might mention — and, 
after all, they are slight — due to any cause connected with 
politics? Are they not rather due to a mixed and curiously 
intertwined variety of other causes which have moulded the 
American mind during the last two centuries? American 
imagination has produced nothing more conspicuously original 
than the romances of Hawthorne. If any one says that he finds 
something in them which he remembers in no previous Eng- 
lish writer, we know what is meant and probably agree. But 
can it be said that there is anything distinctively American 
in Hawthorne, that is to say, that his specific quality is of a 



chap, cx INFLUENCE OF DEMOCRACY ON THOUGHT 765 

kind which reappears in other American writers? Few will 
affirm this. The most peculiar, and therefore I suppose the 
most characteristically American school of thought, has been 
what used to be called the Concord or Transcendental school 
of fifty years ago; among the writings produced by which 
those of Emerson are best known in Europe. Were the 
authors of that school distinctively democratic either in the 
colour of their thought, or in its direction, or in the style which 
expresses it? And if so, can the same democratic tinge be 
discerned in the authors of to-day? I doubt it; but such 
matters do not admit of proof or disproof. One must leave 
them to the literary feeling of the reader. 

A very distinguished American man of letters once said to 
me that he hated nothing so much as to hear people talk about 
American literature. He meant, I think, that those who did 
so were puzzling themselves unnecessarily to find something 
which belonged to a new country and a democratic country, 
and were forgetting or ignoring the natural relation of works 
of imagination and thought produced in America to books 
written by men of the same race in the Old World before and 
since 1776. 

So far, then, as regards American literature generally, I do 
not believe that there is in it anything specifically democratic. 
Nor if we look at the various departments of speculative 
thought, such as metaphysics and theology, or at those which 
approach nearer to the exact sciences, such as economics and 
jurisprudence, shall we find that the character and substance 
of the doctrines propounded bear marked traces of a democratic 
influence. Why should we be surprised at this, seeing that 
the influence of a form of government is only one among many 
influences, even where a nation stands alone, and creates a 
literature distinctively local? But can books written in the 
United States be deemed to constitute a literature locally 
American in the same sense as the literatures of France and 
Germany, of Italy and Eussia, belong to those countries? For 
the purposes of thought and art the United States is a part of 
England, and England is a part of America. Many English 
books are more widely read and strike deeper to the heart in 
America than in England. Some American books have a like 
fortune in England. Differences there are, but differences how 



766 SOCIAL INSTITUTIONS part vi 

trivial compared with, the resemblances in temper, in feeling, 
in susceptibility to certain forms of moral and physical beauty, 
in the general view of life and nature, in the disposition to 
revere and be swayed by the same matchless models of that 
elder literature which both branches of the English race can 
equally claim. American literature does not to-day differ more 
from English literature than the Scottish writers of eighty or 
a hundred years ago — Burns, Scott, Adam Smith, Reid, Hume, 
Robertson — differed from their English contemporaries. There 
was a fondness for abstractions and generalizations in the 
Scottish prose writers ; there was in the Scottish poets a bloom 
and fragrance of mountain heather which gave to their work 
a charm of freshness and singularity, like that which a faint 
touch of local accent gives to the toDgue of an orator. But 
they were English as well as Scottish writers : they belong to 
English literature and make part of its glory to the world 
beyond. So Eenimore Cooper, Hawthorne, Emerson, Long- 
fellow, and those on whom their mantle has fallen, belong to 
England as well as to America; and English writers, as they 
more and more realize the vastness of the American public they 
address, will more and more feel themselves to be American as 
well as English, and will often find in America not only a 
larger but a more responsive audience. 

We have been here concerned not to discuss the merits and 
estimate the place of American thinkers and writers, but only 
to examine the relation in which they stand to their political 
and social environment. That relation, however, sets before 
us one more question. The English-speaking population of 
the United States will soon be twice as large as that of the 
United Kingdom. The white part of it is a more educated 
population, in which a greater number of persons come under 
the influence of books and might therefore be stirred up to 
intellectual production. Why then does it not make more 
important contributions to the common literary wealth of the 
race? Is there a want of creative power? and if so, to what 
is the want due? 

This is a question frequently propounded. I propose to con- 
sider it in the chapter which follows. 



CHAPTER CXI 

CREATIVE INTELLECTUAL POWER 

There is a street in Florence on each side of which stand 
statues of the famous Florentines of the fourteenth and fif- 
teenth centuries, — Dante, Giotto, Petrarch, Boccaccio, Ghiberti, 
Machiavelli, Michael Angelo, and others scarcely less illustri- 
ous, all natives of the little city which in their days had never a 
population of more than seventy thousand souls. 1 No one can 
walk between these rows of world-famous figures, matched by 
no other city of the modern world, without asking himself what 
cause determined so much of the highest genius to this one 
spot; why in Italy herself populous Milan and Naples and 
Venice have no such list to show ; why the succession of great- 
ness stopped with the beginning of the sixteenth century and 
has never been resumed? Questions substantially the same 
constantly rise to the mind in reading the history of other 
countries. Why did England produce no first-rate poet in the 
two stirring centuries between Chaucer and Shakespeare, and 
again in the century and a half between Milton's birth and 
Wordsworth's ? Why have epochs of comparative sterility more 
than once fallen upon Germany and France? and why has 
music sometimes reached its highest pitch of excellence at 
moments when the other arts were languishing? Why does 
the sceptre of intellectual and artistic leadership pass now to 
one great nation, now to another, inconstant and unpredictable 
as are the shifting winds? 

These questions touch the deepest and most complex prob- 
lems of history; and neither historian nor physiologist has 
yet been able to throw any real light upon them. Even the 
commonplace remark that times of effort and struggle tend to 

1 Petrarch saw the light in Arezzo, hut his family was Florentine, and it was 
by a mere accident that he was horn away from his own city. 



768 SOCIAL INSTITUTIONS part vi 

develop an unusually active intellectual movement, and there- 
with to awaken or nourish rare geniuses, is not altogether true ; 
for some of the geniuses have arisen at moments when there 
was no excitement to call them forth, and at other times 
seasons of storm and stress have raised up no one capable of 
directing the efforts or interpreting the feelings of his genera- 
tion. One thing, however, is palpable : numbers have nothing 
to do with the matter. There is no average of a man of genius 
to so many thousands or millions of persons. Out of the sixty 
thousand of Florence there arise during two centuries more 
men of undying fame than out of huge London during the last 
three centuries. Even the stock of solid second-class ability 
does not necessarily increase with increasing numbers ; while 
as to those rare combinations of gifts which produce poetry or 
philosophy of the first order, they are revealed no more fre- 
quently in a great European nation now than they were in a 
Semitic tribe or a tiny Greek city twenty -five or thirty cen- 
turies ago. 

There is therefore no reason why the absence of brilliant 
genius among the sixty-five millions in the United States 
should excite any surprise; we might as well wonder that 
there is no Goethe, or Schiller or Kant or Hegel in the Ger- 
many of to-day, so much more populous and better educated 
than the Germany of their birth-time. It is not to be made a 
reproach against America that men like Tennyson or Darwin 
have not been born there. "The wind bloweth where it 
listeth ; " the rarest gifts appear no one can tell why or how. 
In broad Erance a century ago no man was found able to 
spring upon the neck of the Eevolution and turn it to his will. 
Eate brought her favourite from a wild Italian island, that had 
but just passed under the yoke of the nation to which it gave 
a master. 

The question we have to ask as regards the United States is 
therefore not why it has given us few men of the highest and 
rarest distinction, but whether it has failed to produce its fair 
share of talents of the second rank, that is, of men capable of 
taking a lead in all the great branches of literary or artistic or 
scientific activity, men who instruct and delight their own 
generation, though possibly future generations may not hold 
all of them in remembrance. 



Dhap. oxi CREATIVE [NTELLECTUAL POWEB 760 

Have fewer men of this order adorned the roll of fame in the 
United States, during the century of their independence, than 
in England, or Franco, or Germany during the same period? 
Obviously this is the fact as regards art in all its branches; 
and also as regards physical and mathematical science. In 
literature the disparity is less evident, yet most candid Ameri- 
cans will agree with Englishmen that it is greater than those 
who know the education and intelligence of the younger people 
would have expected. I pass by oratory and statesmanship, 
because comparison is in these fields very difficult. The fact 
therefore being admitted, we have to endeavour to account for it. 

If the matter were one of numerical averages, it would be 
pertinent to remark that of the sixty-six millions of people in 
the United States seven or eight millions are negroes, at pres- 
ent altogether below the stratum from which production can be 
expected; that of the whites there may be two millions to 
whom English is a foreign language, and that several millions 
are recent immigrants from Europe. This diminishes the 
contrast between numbers and intellectual results. But num- 
bers have so little to do with the question that the point scarcely 
deserves a passing reference. 

Those who have discussed the conditions of intellectual pro- 
ductivity have often remarked that epochs of stir and excite- 
ment are favourable, because they stimulate men's minds, 
setting new ideas afloat, and awakening new ambitions. It is 
also true that vigorous unremitting labour is, speaking gener- 
ally, needed for the production of good work, and that one is 
therefore less entitled to expect it in an indolent time and from 
members of the luxurious classes. But it is not less true, though 
less frequently observed, that tranquillity and repose are neces- 
sary to men of the kind w r e are considering, and often helpful 
even to the highest geniuses, for the evolving of new thoughts 
and the creation of forms of finished and harmonious beauty. 
He who is to do such work must have time to meditate, and 
pause, and meditate again. He must be able to set his crea- 
tion aside, and return to it after days or weeks to look at it 
with fresh eyes. He must be neither distracted from his main 
purpose, nor hurried in effecting it. He must be able to con- 
centrate the whole force of his reason or imagination on one 
subject, to abstract himself when needful from the flitting sights 

VOL. II 3D 



770 SOCIAL INSTITUTIONS part vi 

and many-voiced clamour of the outer world. Juvenal said 
this long ago about the poet; it also applies, though possibly 
in a lower degree, both to the artist and to the serious thinker, 
or delicate workman, in any field of literature, to the meta- 
physician, the theologian, the philosophic historian, the econo- 
mist, the philologist, even the novelist and the statesman. I 
have heard men* who had gone from a quiet life into politics 
complain that they found their thinking powers wither, and 
that while they became far more expert in getting up subjects 
and speaking forcibly and plausibly, they found it harder and 
harder to form sound general views and penetrate beneath the 
superficialities of the newspaper and the platform. Interrupted 
thought, trains of reflection or imaginative conceptions con- 
stantly broken by a variety of petty transient calls of business, 
claims of society, matters passing in the world to note and 
think of, not only tire the mind but destroy its chances of 
attaining just and deep views of life and nature, as a wind- 
ruffled pool ceases to reflect the rocks and woods around it. 
Mohammed falling into trances on the mountain above Mecca, 
Dante in the sylvan solitudes of Fonte Avellana, Cervantes 
and Bunyan in the enforced seclusion of a prison, Hegel so 
wrapt and lost in his speculations that, taking his manuscript 
to the publisher in Jena on the day of the great battle, he was 
surprised to see French soldiers in the streets ; these are types 
of the men and conditions which give birth to thoughts that 
occupy succeeding generations: and what is true of these 
greatest men is perhaps even more true of men of the next 
rank. Doubtless many great works have been produced among 
inauspicious surroundings, and even under severe pressure of 
time; but it will, I think, be almost invariably found that the 
producer had formed his ideas or conceived his creations in 
hours of comparative tranquillity, and had turned on them the 
full stream of his powers to the exclusion of whatever could 
break or divert its force. 

In Europe men call this a century of unrest. But the 
United States is more unrestful than Europe, more unrestful 
than any country we know of has yet been. Nearly every one 
is busy; those few who have not to earn their living and do 
not feel called to serve their countrymen, find themselves out 
of place, and have been wont either to make amusement into 



Ohap. cxi CREATIVE CNTBLLECTUAIi POWER 771 

a business or to transfer themselves to the ease of France or 
Italy. The earning of one's living is not, indeed, incompatible 
with intellectually creative work, for many of those who have 
done such work best have done it in addition to their gainful 
Occupation, or have earned their living by it. But in America 
it is unusually hard for any one to withdraw his mind from the 
endless variety of external impressions and interests which 
daily life presents, and which impinge upon the mind, I will 
not say to vex it, but to keep it constantly vibrating to their 
touch. Life is that of the squirrel in his revolving cage, never 
still even when it does not seem to change. It becomes every 
day more and more so in England, and English literature and 
art show increasing marks of haste. In the United States the 
ceaseless stir and movement, the constant presence of news- 
papers, the eagerness which looks through every pair of eyes, 
even that active intelligence and sense of public duty, strongest 
in the best minds, which make a citizen feel that he ought to 
know what is passing in the wider world as well as in his own, 
all these render life more exciting to the average man than it 
is in Europe, but chase away from it the opportunities for 
repose and meditation which art and philosophy need, as grow- 
ing plants need the coolness and darkness of night no less than 
the blaze of day. The type of mind which American condi- 
tions have evolved is quick, vigorous, practical, versatile; but 
it is unfavourable to the natural germination and slow ripen- 
ing of large and luminous ideas; it wants the patience that 
will spend weeks or months on bringing details to an exquisite 
perfection. And accordingly we see that the most rich and 
finished literary work America has given us has proceeded 
from the older regions of the country, where the pulsations of 
life are slower and steadier than in the West or in the great 
commercial cities. It was from Xew England that the best 
books of the last generation came ; and that not solely because 
the English race was purest there, and education most gener- 
ally diffused, for the Xew Englanders who have gone West, 
though they have carried with them their moral standard and 
their bright intelligence, seem either to have left behind their 
gift for literary creation, or to care to employ it only in teach- 
ing and in journalism. 

It may be objected to this view that some of the great 



772 SOCIAL INSTITUTIONS part vi 

literary ages, such as the Periclean age at Athens, the Medi- 
cean age at Florence, the age of Elizabeth in England, have 
been ages full of movement and excitement. But the unrest- 
fulness which prevails in America is altogether different from 
the large variety of life, the flow of stimulating ideas and 
impressions which marked those ages. Life is not as interest- 
ing in America, except as regards commercial speculation, as 
it is in Europe, because society and the environment of man 
are too uniform. It is hurried and bustling; it is filled with 
a multitude of duties and occupations and transient impres- 
sions. In the ages I have referred to, men had time enough for 
all there was to do, and the very scantiness of literature and 
rarity of news made that which was read and received tell 
more powerfully upon the imagination. 

Nor is it only the distractions of American life that clog 
the wings of invention. The atmosphere is over full of all 
that pertains to material progress. Americans themselves say, 
when excusing the comparative poverty of learning and science, 
that their chief occupation is at present the subjugation of 
their continent, that it is an occupation large enough to demand 
most of the energy and ambition of the nation, but that pres- 
ently, when this work is done, the same energy and ambition 
will win similar triumphs in the fields of abstract thought, 
while the gifts which now make them the first nation in the 
world for practical inventions, will then assure to them a like 
place in scientific discovery. There is evidently much truth 
in this. The attractions of practical life are so great to men 
conscious of their own vigour, the development of the West 
and the vast operations of commerce and finance which have ac- 
companied that development have absorbed so many strenuous 
talents, that the supply of ability available not only for pure 
science (apart from its applications) and for philosophical and 
historical studies, but even for statesmanship, has been pro- 
portionately reduced. But, besides this withdrawal of an un- 
usually large part of the nation's force, the predominance of 
material and practical interests has turned men's thoughts and 
conversation into a channel unfavourable to the growth of the 
higher and more solid kinds of literature, perhaps still more 
unfavourable to art. Goethe said, " If a talent is to be speedily 
and happily developed the chief point is that a great deal of 



dbap.ox] CREATIVE HTTBLLECTUAL POWEB 773 

intellect and sound culture should be current in a nation.' 1 
There is certainly a great deal of intellect current in the United 
States. Hut it is chiefly directed to business, that is, to rail- 
ways, to finance, to commerce, to inventions, to manufactures 

(as well as to practical professions like law), things which play 
a relatively Larger part than in Europe, as subjects of universal 
attention and discussion. There is abundance of sound cul- 
ture, but it is so scattered about in divers places and among 
small groups which seldom meet one another, that no large 
cultured society has arisen similar to that of European capi- 
tals or to that which her universities have created for Ger- 
many. In Boston thirty years ago a host could have brought 
together round his table nine men as interesting and cultivated 
, ris or London would have furnished. But a similar party 
of eighteen could not have been collected, nor even the nine 
anywhere except in Boston. At .present, culture is more 
diffused : there are many cities where men of high attainments 
and keen intellectual interests are found, and associate them- 
selves in literary or scientific clubs. Societies for the study 
of particular authors are frequent among women. I remember 
to have been told of a Homer club and an iEschylus club, 
formed by the ladies of St. Louis, and of a Dante club in some 
Eastern city. Nevertheless a young talent gains less than it 
would gain in Europe from the surroundings into which it is 
born. The atmosphere is not charged with ideas as in Ger- 
many, nor with critical finesse as in France. Stimulative it 
is, but the stimulus drives eager youth away from the groves 
of the Muses into the struggling throng of the market-place. 
It may be thought fanciful to add that in a new country one 
whole set of objects which appeal to the imagination, are 
absent, — no castles gray with age; no solemn cathedrals whose 
altering styles of architecture carry the mind up or down the 
long stream of history from the eleventh to the seventeenth 
century; few spots or edifices consecrated by memories of 
famous men or deeds, and among these none of remote date. 
There is certainly no want of interest in those few spots: the 
warmth with which Americans cherish them puts to shame the 
indifference of the English Parliament to the historic and 
prehistoric sites and buildings of Britain. But not one Ameri- 
can youth in a thousand comes under the spell of any such 



774 SOCIAL INSTITUTIONS part vi 

associations. In the city or State where he lives there is noth- 
ing to call him away from the present. All he sees is new, 
and has no glories to set before him save those of accnmnlated 
wealth and industry skilfully applied to severely practical ends. 
Some one may say that if (as was observed in last chapter) 
English and American literature are practically one, there is 
no need to explain the fact that one part of a race undivided 
for literary purposes leaves the bulk of literary production to 
be done by the other part, seeing that it can enter freely into 
the labours of the latter and reckon them its own. To argue 
thus would be to push the doctrine of the unity of the two 
branches rather too far, for after all there is much in American 
conditions and life which needs its special literary and artistic 
interpretations ; and the question would still confront us, why 
the transatlantic branch, nowise inferior in mental force, con- 
tributes less than its share to the common stock. Still it is 
certainly true that the existence of a great body of producers, 
in England of literature, as in Erance of pictures, diminishes 
the need for production in America. Or to put the same thing 
in another way, if the Americans did not read English they 
would evidently feel called on to create more high literature 
for themselves. Many books which America might produce 
are not produced because the men qualified to write them know 
that there are already English books on the same subject; and 
the higher such men's standard is, the more apt are they to 
overrate the advantages which English authors enjoy as com- 
pared with themselves. Many feelings and ideas which now 
find adequate expression through the English books which 
Americans read would then have to be expressed through 
American books, and their literature would be not only more 
individual, but more copious and energetic. If it lost in 
breadth, it would gain in freshness and independence. Ameri- 
can authors conceive that even the non-recognition of inter- 
national copyright told for evil on their profession. Since 
the native writer was undersold by reprints of English and 
French books, which, paying nothing to the European author, 
could be published at the cost of the paper and printing only, 
native authorship was discouraged, native talent diverted into 
other fields, while at the same time the intellectual standard 
of the public was lowered and its taste vulgarized. It might 



CREATIVE INTELLECTUAL POWKI! 



have been thought that the profusion of cheap reprints would 
quicken thought and diffuse the higher kinds of knowledge 
among the masses. But by far the largest part of these 
reprints, and the part most extensively read, were novels, and 
among them many flimsy novels, which drove better books, 
including some of the best American fiction, out of the market, 
and tended to Europeanize the American mind in the worst 
way. One may smile at the suggestion I have met with that 
the allegiance of the working classes to their democratic insti- 
tutions will be seduced by descriptions of English duchesses; 
yet it is probably true — eminent observers assure one of it — 
that the profusion of new frothy or highly spiced fiction offered 
at fivepence or tenpence a volume did much to spoil the popular 
palate for the enjoyment of more wholesome and nutritious food. 
And whatever injures the higher literature by diminishing the 
demand, may further injure it by creating an atmosphere un- 
favourable to the growth of pure and earnest native literary 
talent. 

What then of the newspapers? The newspapers are too large 
a subject for this chapter, and their influence as organs of 
opinion has been already discussed. The vigour and brightness 
of many among them are surprising. Nothing escapes them : 
everything is set in the sharpest, clearest light. Their want 
of reticence and delicacy is regretfully admitted by all educated 
Americans — the editors, I think, included. The cause of this 
deficiency is probably to be found in the fact that, whereas the 
first European journals were written for the polite world of 
large cities, American journals were, early in their career, if 
not at its very beginning, written for the bulk of the people, 
and published in communities still so small that everybody's 
concerns were already pretty well known to everybody else. 
They had attained no high level of literary excellence when 
some forty years ago an enterprising man of unrefined taste 
created a new type of "live" newspaper, which made a rapid 
success by its smartness, copiousness, and variety, while 
addressing itself entirely to the multitude. Other papers were 
almost forced to shape themselves on the same lines, because 
the class which desired something more choice was still rela- 
tively small; and now the journals of the chief cities have 
become such vast commercial concerns that they still think 



776 SOCIAL INSTITUTIONS part vi 

first of the mass and are controlled by its tastes, which they 
have themselves done so much to create. There are cities 
where the more refined readers who dislike flippant person- 
alities are counted by tens of thousands, but in such cities 
competition is now too severe to hold out much prospect of 
success to a paper which does not expect the support of hun- 
dreds of thousands. It is not, however, with the aesthetic or 
moral view of the newspaper that we are here concerned, but 
with the effect on the national mind of the enormous ratio 
which the reading of newspapers bears to all other reading, a 
ratio higher than even in France or England. A famous Eng- 
lishman, himself a powerful and fertile thinker, contrasted 
the value of the history of Thucydides with that of a single 
number of the Times newspaper, greatly to the advantage of 
the latter. Others may conceive that a thoughtful study of 
Thucydides, or, not to go beyond our own tongue, of Bacon, 
Milton, Locke, or Burke, perhaps even of Gibbon, Grote, or 
Macaulay, will do more to give keenness to the eye and 
strength to the wings of the mind than a whole year's reading 
of the best daily newspaper. It is not merely that the matter 
is of more permanent and intrinsic worth, nor that the manner 
and style form the student's taste; it is not merely that in the 
newspaper we are in contact with persons like ourselves, in the 
other case with rare and splendid intellects. The whole atti- 
tude of the reader is different. His attention is loose, his 
mind unbraced, so that he does not stop to scrutinize an argu- 
ment, and forgets even valuable facts as quickly as he has learnt 
them. If he read Burke as he reads the newspaper, Burke 
would do him little good. And therefore the habit of mind 
produced by a diet largely composed of newspapers is adverse 
to solid thinking and dulling to the sense of beauty. Scorched 
and stony is the soil which newspaper reading has prepared to 
receive the seeds of genius. 

Does the modern world really gain, so far as creative thought 
is concerned, by the profusion of cheap literature? It is a 
question one often asks in watching the passengers on an 
American railway. A boy walks up and down the car scatter- 
ing newspapers and books in paper covers right and left as he 
goes. The newspapers are glanced at, though probably most 
people have read several of the day's papers already. The 



chap, cxi CREATIVE INTELLECTUAL POWEK 777 



books are nearly all novels. They are not bad in tone, and 
sometimes they give incidentally a superficial knowledge of 
things outside the personal experience of the reader; while 
from their newspapers fche passengers ilrawa stork of informa- 
tion far beyond that of a European peasant, or even of an 
average European artisan. Yet one feels that this constant 
succession of transient ideas, none of them impressively though 
many of them startlingly stated, all of them flitting swiftly 
past the mental sight as the trees flit past the eyes when one 
looks out of the car window, is no more favourable to the 
development of serious intellectual interests and creative intel- 
lectual power than is the limited knowledge of the European 
artisan or peasant. 

Most of the reasons I have hazarded to account for a phe- 
nomenon surprising to one who recognizes the quantity of 
intellect current in America, and the diffusion, far more 
general than in any other country, of intellectual curiosity, 
are reasons valid in the Europe of to-day as compared with the 
Europe of last century, and still more true of the modern 
world as compared with the best periods of the ancient. 
Printing is by no means pure gain to the creative faculties, 
whatever it may be to the acquisitive ; even as a great ancient 
thinker seems to have thought that the invention of writing in 
Egypt had weakened the reflective powers of man. The ques- 
tion follows, Are these causes, supposing them to be true 
causes, likely to be more or less operative in the America of 
next century than they now are? Will America become more 
what Europe is now, or will she be even more American? 

I have elsewhere thrown out some conjectures on this point. 
Meantime it is pertinent to ask what are the most recent devel- 
opments of American thought and research, for this will help 
us to see whether the tide of productive endeavour is rising or 
falling. 

The abundant and excellent work done in fiction need be 
mentioned only for the sake of calling attention to the interest 
it lias, over and above its artistic merit, as a record of the 
local manners and usages and types of character in various 
parts of the Union — types which are fast disappearing. The 
Creoles of Louisiana, the negroes under slavery, with African 
tales still surviving in their memories, the rough but kindly 



778 SOCIAL INSTITUTIONS 



backwoodsmen of Indiana forty years ago, the mountain folk 
of Tennessee, the humours of the Mississippi steamboat and 
the adventurous life of the Far West, are all known to Europe 
through the tales of writers now living, as the Indians of ninety 
years ago became known through the romances of Fenimore 
Cooper. However, this is familiar ground to European readers, 
so I pass to work of a less generally attractive order. 

Thirty years ago the standard of classical scholarship was 
low, and even the school commentaries on classical authors fell 
far short of those produced in Germany or England. Now- 
adaj^s both in classical and in Oriental philology admirably 
thorough and painstaking work is produced. I have heard 
high European authorities observe that there is an almost 
excessive anxiety among American scholars to master all that 
has been written, even by third-rate Germans, and that the 
desire they evince to overtake Germany in respect of knowledge 
betrays some among them into the German fault of neglecting 
merits of form and style. In the sciences of nature, especially 
in those of observation, remarkable advances have been made. 
Dr. Asa Gray, whom the eldest American university has lately 
lost, was one of the two or three greatest botanists of his age. 
Much excellent work has been done in geology and palaeon- 
tology, particularly in exploring the Rocky Mountain regions. 
Both for the excellence of their instruments and the accuracy 
of their observations, the astronomers stand in the front rank ; 
nor do they fall behind Europe in the theoretical part of this 
science. In some branches of physics and chemistry, such as 
spectrum analysis, American investigators have won like fame. 
Competent authorities award the highest praise to their recent 
contributions to biology and to medical science. In economics 
they seem to stand before either England or France, both as 
regards the extent to which the subject is studied in universi- 
ties and as regards the number of eminent persons whom it 
occupies. In jurisprudence and law, American text-books are 
quite as good as those produced in England ; 1 and one author, 
the late Mr. Justice Story, deserves, looking to the quantity 
as well as to the quality of his work, to be placed at the head 

1 The number of legal journals and magazines in the United States is very 
much larger than in England, and the average of workmanship in them seems 
higher. 



chap, oxi CREATIVE INTELLECTUAL POWEli 779 

of all who have handled these topics in the English tongue 
during the last seventy years. Political science has begun to be 

studied more energetically than in England, where, to be sure, 
it is scarcely studied at all; and every year sees treatises and 
articles of permanent value added to the scanty modern litera- 
ture which our language possesses on this subject. Similarly 
there is great activity in the field of both secular and ecclesi- 
astical history, though as the work done lias largely taken the 
direction of inquiries into the early history of institutions, 
and has altogether been more in the nature of research than of 
treatises attractive to the general public, its quantity and its 
merits have not yet been duly appreciated even at home, much 
less in Europe. Indeed, it is remarkable how far from showy 
and sensational is the bulk of the work now done in America. 
It is mostly work of the German type, solid, careful, exact, and 
often dry. not at all the sort of work which theorists about de- 
mocracy would have looked for, since it appeals rather to the 
learned few than to the so-called general reader. One receives 
the impression that the class of intellectual workers, who until 
recently wanted institutions in which the highest and fullest 
training could be had, have now become sensible that their 
country, occupied in developing its resources and educating its 
ordinary citizens, had fallen behind Europe in learning and 
science, and that they are therefore the more eager to accumu- 
late knowledge and spend their energy in minutely laborious 
special studies. 1 

I may be reminded that neither in the departments above 
mentioned, nor in statesmanship, can one point to many bril- 
liant personalities. The men whose names rise to the lips of 
a European are all advanced in life. Perhaps this is true 
of Europe also; perhaps the world has entered on an age of 
mediocrities. Some one lately said that there was now nobody 
in Paris. Berlin, or London under sixty years of age whom one 
would cross the street to look at. If this be so, it is not merely 
because length of years has given better chances of winning 
fame, for nearly all the men now famous in Europe had won 
fame before they were forty. There have been periods in 

1 The extreme pains taken in America to provide every library with a 
classified catalogue directing rea-levs to the books on each subject, illustrates 
this tendency. 



780 SOCIAL INSTITUTIONS paht vi 

history when striking ligures were lacking, although great 
events seemed to call for them. As regards America, if there 
be few persons of exceptional gifts, it is significant that the 
number of those who are engaged in scientific work, whether 
in the investigation of nature or in the moral, political, and 
historical sciences, is larger, relatively to the population of 
the country, than it was thirty years ago, the methods better, 
the work done more solid, the spirit more earnest and eager. 
Nothing more strikes a stranger who visits the American 
universities than the ardour with which the younger genera- 
tion has thrown itself into study, even kinds of study which 
will never win the applause of the multitude. There is more 
zeal and heartiness among these men, more freshness of mind, 
more love of learning for its own sake, more willingness to 
forego the chances of fame and wealth for the sake of adding 
to the stock of human knowledge, than is to be found to-day in 
Oxford or Cambridge, or in the universities of Scotland. One 
is reminded of the scholars of the Kenaissance flinging them- 
selves into the study of rediscovered philology, or of the Ger- 
man universities after the War of Liberation. And under the 
impressions formed in mingling with such men, one learns to 
agree with the conviction of the Americans that for a nation 
so abounding in fervid force there is reserved a fruitful career 
in science and letters, no less than in whatever makes material 
prosperity. 



CHAPTER CXII 

THE RELATION OF THE UNITED STATES TO EURftl'K 

One cannot discuss American literature and thought with- 
out asking, What is the intellectual relation of the United 
States to Europe ? Is it that of an equal member of the great 
republic of letters ? Or is it that of a colony towards the 
mother country, or of a province towards a capital ? Is it, to 
take instances from history, such a relation as was that of 
Rome to Greece in the second and first centuries before Christ ? 
or of Northern and Western Europe to Italy in the fifteenth ? 
or of German}- to France in the eighteenth ? in all of which 
cases there was a measure of intellectual dependence on the 
part of a nation which felt itself in other respects as strong 
as or stronger than that whose models it followed, and from 
whose hearth it lighted its own flame. 

To answer this question we must first answer another — 
How do the Americans themselves conceive their position 
towards Europe ? and this, again, suggests a third — What 
does the American people think of itself ? 

Fifty, or even forty years ago, the conceit of this people was 
a byword. It was not 011I3- self-conscious but obtrusive and 
ssive. Every visitor satirized it, Dickens most keenly of 
all. in forgiving whom the Americans gave the strongest proof 
of their good nature. Doubtless all nations are either vain or 
proud, or both : and those not least who receive least recogni- 
tion from their neighbours. 1 A nation could hardly stand 
without this element to support its self-reliance; though when 
pushed to an extreme it may. as happens with the Turks, make 
national ruin the more irretrievable, lint American conceit 
has been steadily declining as the country has grown older, 
more aware of its I igth, more res] ected by other coun- 

1 The Danes an«l Portuguese are examples. 

781 



782 SOCIAL INSTITUTIONS part vi 

tries. 1 There was less conceit after the Civil War than before, 
though the Civil War had revealed elements of greatness unex- 
pected by foreigners ; there is less now than there was at the 
close of the Civil War. An impartially rigorous censor from 
some other planet might say of the Americans that they are 
at this moment less priggishly supercilious than the Germans, 
less restlessly pretentious than the French, less pharisaically 
self-satisfied than the English. Among the upper or better- 
educated classes, glorification has died out, except of course in 
Fourth of July and other public addresses, when the scream 
of the national eagle must be heard. One sometimes finds it 
replaced by undue self-depreciation, with lamentations over 
the want of culture, the decline of faith, or the corruption of 
politics. Among the masses it survives in an exultation over 
the size and material resources of the country, — the physi- 
cally large is to them the sublime, — in an overestimate of 
men and events in American history ; in a delight, strongest, 
of course, among the recent immigrants, in the completeness of 
social equality, and a corresponding contempt for the "serfs 
of Europe" who submit to be called " subjects" of their sov- 
ereign, in a belief in the superior purity of their domestic life 
and literature, and in the notion that they are the only people 
who enjoy true political liberty, liberty far fuller than that 
of England, far more orderly than that of France. 2 Taking- 
all classes together, they are now not more sensitive to exter- 
nal opinion than the nations of Western Europe, and less so 

1 Tocqueville complains that the Americans would not permit a stranger to 
pass even the smallest unfavourable criticism on any of their institutions, 
however warmly he might express his admiration of the rest. 

2 It must, however, be admitted that this whimsical idea is not confined to 
the masses. I find, for instance, in an address delivered by an eminent man 
to a distinguished literary fraternity in October, 1887,. the following passage : 
" They (i.e. ' the immortal periods of the Declaration of Independence ') have 
given political freedom to America and France, unity and nationality to Ger- 
many and Italy, emancipated the Russian serf, relieved Prussia and Hungary 
from feudal tenures, and will in time free Great Britain and Ireland also " .' 

I have often asked Americans wherein they consider their freedom superior 
to that of the English, but have never found them able to indicate a single 
point in which the individual man is worse off in England as regards either 
his private civil rights, or his political rights, or his general liberty of doing 
and thinking as he pleases. They generally turn the discussion to social 
equality, the existence of a monarchy and of hereditary titles, and so forth — 
matters which are of course quite different from freedom in its proper sense. 



chap, cxn RELATION ov AMERICA TO EUROPE 788 

than the Russians, though they are si ill a trifle more apt to go 
through Europe comparing what they find with what they left 

at home. A foreign critic who tries to flout or scourge them 
no longer disturbs their composure; his jeers are received 
with amusement or indifference. Their patriotism is in one 
respect stronger than that of Frenchmen or Englishmen, be- 
cause it is less broken by class feeling, but it has ceased to be 
aggressive. 

>rdingly the attitude of thoughtful Americans to Europe 
has no longer either the old open antagonism or the old latent 
self-distrust. It is that of a people which conceives itself to be 
intellectually the equal of any other people, but to have taken 
upon itself for the time a special task which impedes it in the 
race of literary and artistic development. Its mission is to 
reclaim the waste lands of a continent, to furnish homes for 
instreaming millions of strangers, to work out a system of 
harmonious and orderly democratic institutions. That it may 
fulfil these tasks it has for the moment postponed certain other 
tasks which it will in due time resume. 1 Meanwhile it may, 
without loss of dignity or of faith in itself, use and enjoy the 
fruits of European intellect which it imports until it sees itself 
free to rival them by native growths. If I may resort to a 
homely comparison, the Americans are like a man whose next- 
door neighbour is in the habit of giving- musical parties in the 
summer evenings. When one of these parties comes off, he 
sits with his family in the balcony to enjoy the quartettes and 
solos which float across to him through the open windows. He 
feels no inferiority, knowing that when he pleases he can have 
performers equally good to delight his own friends, though for 
this year he prefers to spend his surplus income in refurnish- 
ing his house or starting his son in business. 

There is of course a difference in the view of the value of 
European work as compared with their own, taken by the 
more educated and by the less educated classes. Of the latter 
some fail to appreciate the worth of culture and of science, 
even for practical purposes, as compared with industrial suc- 
cess, though in this respect they are no more obtuse than the 



1 A Chicago man is reported to have expressed this belief with characteristic 
lirectness in the sentence " Chicago lias had no time; for culture yet, hut when 
me does take hoM >h<- v. ill make it hum." 



784 SOCIAL INSTITUTIONS part vi 

bulk of Englishmen ; and they accordingly underrate their 
obligations to Europe. Others, knowing that they ought to 
admire works of imagination and research, but possessed of 
more patriotism than discernment, cry up second or third rate 
fiction, poetry, and theology because it is American, and try 
to believe that their country gives to Europe as much as 
she receives. Taste for literature is so much more diffused 
than taste in literature that a certain kind of fame is easily 
won. There are dozens of poets and scores of poetesses much 
admired in their own State, some even beyond its limits, with 
no merit but that of writing verse which can be scanned, and 
will raise no blush on the most sensitive cheek. Criticism is 
lenient, or rather it does not exist, for the few journals which 
contain good reviews are little read except in four or five 
Northern Atlantic States, and several inland cities. A really 
active and searching criticism, which should appraise literary 
work on sound canons, not caring whether it has been pro- 
duced in America, or in Enrope, by a man or by a woman, in 
the East or in the West, is one of the things most needed in 
America. Among highly educated men this extravagant ap- 
preciation of native industry produces a disgust expressing 
itself sometimes in sarcasm, sometimes in despondency. Many 
deem their home-grown literature trivial, and occupy them- 
selves with European books, watching the presses of England, 
France, and Germany more carefully than almost any one does 
in England. Yet even these, I think, cherish silently the 
faith that when the West has been settled and the railways 
built, and possibilities of sudden leaps to wealth diminished, 
when culture has diffused itself among the classes whose edu- 
cation is now superficial, and their love of art extended itself 
from furniture to pictures and statuary, American literature 
will in due course flower out with a brilliance of bloom and a 
richness of fruit rivalling the Old World. 

The United States are, therefore, if this account be correct, 
in a relation to Europe for which no exact historical parallel 
can be found. They do not look up to her, nor seek to model 
themselves after her. They are too proud for a province, too 
large for a colony. They certainly draw from Europe far 
more thought than they send to her, while of art they have 
produced little and exported nothing; though what they do 



OHAP.cxii RELATION OF AMERICA TO EUROPE 785 

now produce, improves in quality. Yet they cannot be said 
to be led or ruled by Europe, because they apply their own 
standards and judgment to whatever they receive. 

Their special relations to the leading European countries are 
worth noting. In old colonial days England was everything. 
The revolt of 1770 produced an estrangement which might 
have been healed after 1783, had England acted with more 
courtesy and tact, but which was embittered by her scornful 
attitude. Wounds which were just beginning to scar over 
were reopened by the war of 1812 ; and the hostilit}^ continued 
as long as the generation lived whose manhood saw that war. 
Tocqueville, in 1833, says he can imagine no hatred more 
venomous than that between the Americans and the English. 
The generation which remembered 1812 was disappearing 
when the sympathy of the English upper classes for the South- 
ern Confederacy in 1861-65 lit up the almost extinguished 
flames. These have been quenched, so far as the native 
Americans are concerned, by the settlement of the Alabama 
claims, which impressed the United States not merely as a 
concession to themselves, but as an evidence of the magna- 
nimity of a proud country. There is still a certain amount of 
rivalry with England, and a certain suspicion that the English 
are trying to patronize even when the latter are innocent of 
such intentions. Now and then an Englishman who, feeling 
himself practically at home, speaks with the same freedom as 
he would use there, finds himself misunderstood. But these 
lingering touches of jealousy are slight compared with the 
growing sympathy felt for "the old country," as it is still 
called. It is the only European country in which the Ameri- 
can people can be said to feel any personal interest, or towards 
an alliance with which they are drawn by any sentiment. 
For a time, however, the sense of gratitude to France for her 
aid in the War of Independence was very strong. It brought 
French literature as well as some French usages into vogue, 
and increased the political influence which France exercised 
during the earlier years of her own Kevolution. Still that 
influence did not go far beyond the sphere of politics : one 
feels it but slightly in the literature of the half century from 
1780 to 1830. 

During the reign of Louis Xapoleon. wealthy Americans 

VOL. If 3 E 



786 SOCIAL INSTITUTIONS part vi 

resorted largely to Paris, and there, living often for years 
together in a congenial atmosphere of display and amusement, 
imbibed undemocratic tastes and ideas, which through them 
found their way back across the ocean, and coloured certain 
sections of American society, particularly in ]STew York. 
Although there is still an American colony in Paris, Parisian 
influence seems no longer to cross the Atlantic. French books, 
novels excepted, and these in translations, are not largely read. 
French politics excite little interest : France is practically not 
a factor at all in the moral or intellectual life of the country. 
Over art, however, especially painting and decoration, she has 
still great power. Many American artists study in Paris, 
indeed all resort thither who do not go to Rome or Florence; 
French pictures enjoy such favour with American dealers 
and private buyers as to make the native artists complain, 
not without reason, that equally good home-made work re- 
ceives no encouragement ; : and house decoration, in which 
America seems to stand before England, particularly in the 
skilful use of wood, is much affected by French designs and 
methods. 

The enormous German immigration of the last thirty years 
might have been expected to go far towards Germanizing the 
American mind, giving it a taste for metaphysics on the one 
hand, and for minutely patient research on the other. It does 
not seem to have had either the one result or the other, or 
indeed any result whatever in the field of thought. It has 
enormously stimulated the brewing industry : it has retarded 
the progress of Prohibitionism : it has introduced more out- 
door life than formerly existed : it has increased the taste for 
music, it has broken down the strictness of Sabbath observ- 
ance, and has indeed in some cities produced what is com- 
monly called "a Continental Sunday." But the vast majority 
of German immigrants have belonged to the humbler classes, 
and were but faintly influenced by their own literature. There 
have been among them extremely few savants, or men likely to 

1 There was, until 1894, a heavy customs duty on foreign works of art, but 
this does not greatly help the native artist, for the men who buy pictures can 
usually buy notwithstanding the duty, while it prevents the artist from fur- 
nishing himself with the works he needs to have around him for the purposes 
of his own training. 



OHAP.cxn RELATION OF AMERICA TO EUROPP] 787 

become sa rants, nor have these played any conspicuous part in 
the universities or in literature. 1 

Nevertheless the influence of Germany has been of late years 
powerfully stimulative upon the cultivated classes, for not only 
are German treatises largely read, but many of the most prom- 
ising graduates of the universities proceed to Germany for a 
year or two to complete their studies, and there become imbued 
with German ideas and methods. The English universities 
have, by their omission to develop advanced instruction in 
speeial branches of knowledge, lost a golden opportunity of 
coming into relation with and influencing that academic youth 
of America in whose hands the future of American science and 
learning lies. This German strain in American work has, 
however, not tended towards the propagation of metaphysical 
schools, metaphysics themselves being now on the ebb in Ger- 
many. It appears in some departments of theology, and is 
also visible in historical and philological studies, in economics, 
and in the sciences of nature. 

On the more popular kinds of literature, as well as upon 
manners, social usages, current sentiment generally, England 
and her influences are of course nearer and more potent than 
those of any other European country, seeing that English books 
go everywhere among all classes, and that they work upon 
those who are substantially English already in their fundamen- 
tal ideas and habits. Americans of the cultivated order, and 
especially women, are more alive to the movements and changes 
in the lighter literature of England, and more curious about 
those who figure in it, especially the rising poets and essay- 
ists, than equally cultivated English men and women. I have 
been repeatedly surprised to find books and men that had made 
no noise in London well known in the Atlantic States, and their 
merits canvassed with more zest and probably more acuteness 
than a London drawing-room would have shown. The verdicts 
of the best circles were not always the same as those of simi- 
lar circles in England, but they were nowise biassed by national 
feeling, and often seemed to proceed from a more delicate and 
sympathetic insight. I recollect, though I had better not men- 

1 Mr. A. D. White, in an interesting article on the influence of German 
thought in the United Slates, cites only Lieber and Mr. Carl Schurz. In 
public life two or three Germans have attained high distinction. 



"88 SOCIAL INSTITUTIONS 



tion, instances in which they welcomed English books which 
England had failed to appreciate, and refused to approve Amer- 
ican books over which English reviewers had become ecstatic. 

Passing English fashions in social customs and in such things 
as games sometimes spread to America,, — possibly more often 
than similar American fashions do to England, — but sometimes 
encounter ridicule there. The Anglomaniac is a familiar object 
of good-humoured satire. As for those large movements of 
opinion or taste or practical philanthropy in which a parallel- 
ism or correspondence between the two countries may often be 
discerned, this correspondence is more frequently due to the 
simultaneous action of the same causes than to any direct 
influence of the older country. In theology, for instance, the 
same relaxation of the rigid tests of orthodoxy has been mak- 
ing way in the churches of both nations. In the Protestant 
Episcopal church there has been a similar, though far less pro- 
nounced, tendency to the development of an ornate ritual. 
The movement for dealing with city pauperism by voluntary 
organizations began later than the Charity Organization soci- 
eties of England, but would probably have begun without their 
example. The University Extension movement, and the estab- 
lishment of "university settlements" in the poorer parts of 
great cities are further instances. The semi-socialistic tendency 
which I have referred to as now noticeable among the younger 
clergy and the younger teachers in some of the universities, 
although similar to that which may be discerned in England, 
does not seem traceable to direct English influences. So too 
the rapidly growing taste for beauty in house decoration and in 
street architecture is a birth of the time rather than of Old World 
teaching, although it owes something to Mr. Ruskin's books,, 
which have been more widely read in America than in England. 1 

In political matters the intellectual sympathy of the two 
countries is of course less close than in the matters just de- 
scribed, because the difference between institutions and condi- 
tions involves a diversity in the problems which call for a 

1 America has produced of late years at least one really distinguished archi- 
tect now unhappily lost to her : and the art seems to he making rapid progress. 
European artists and critics who saw the buildings erected for the Chicago 
Exhibition of 1893 were greatly impressed by the inventiveness and taste they 
displayed : nor can a traveller fail to be struck by the beauty and variety of 
design showD by the villas which surround the richer cities. 



OMap.cxii RELATION OF AMEBICA TO EUROPE 789 



practical solution. Political changes in England affect A mm 

can opinion less than such changes in Prance affect English 
opinion, although the Americana know more and care more 
and judge move soundly about English affairs than the French 
do about English or the English about French. The ces- 
sation of bitterness between Great Britain and the Irish would 
make a difference in American politics, but no political event 
in England less serious than, let us say, the establishment of 
a powerful Socialist party, would sensibly tell on American 
opinion, just as no event happening beyond the Atlantic, 
except the rise and fall of the Southern Confederacy, has in- 
fluenced the course of English political thought. However, 
the wise men of the West watch English experiments for light 
and guidance in their own troubles. A distinguished Ameri- 
can who came four or five years ago to London to study Eng- 
lish politics, told me that he did so in the hope of finding 
conservative institutions and forces from which lessons service- 
able to the United States might be learned. After a fortnight, 
however, he concluded that England was in a state of sup- 
pressed revolution, and departed sorrowful. 

On a review of the whole matter it will appear that although 
as respects most kinds of intellectual work America is rather 
in the position of the consumer, Europe, and especially Eng- 
land, in that of the producer, although America is more influ- 
enced by English and German books and by French art than 
these countries are influenced by her, still she does not look 
for initiative to them, or hold herself in any way their disciple. 
She is in many points independent; and in all fully persuaded 
of her independence. 

Will she then in time develop a new literature, bearing the 
stamp of her own mint ? She calls herself a new country : will 
she give the world a new r philosophy, new views of religion, a 
new type of life in which plain living and high thinking may be 
more happily blended than we now see them in the Old World, 
a life in which the franker recognition of equality will give a 
freshness to ideas and to manners a charm of simplicity which 
the aristocratic societies of Europe have failed to attain? 

As regards manners and life, she has already approached 
nearer this happy combination than any society of the Old 
World. As regards ideas, I have found among the most 



790 SOCIAL INSTITUTIONS part vi 

cultivated Americans a certain cosmopolitanism of view, and 
detachment from national or local prejudice, superior to that of 
the same classes in France, England, or Germany. In the ideas 
themselves there is little one can call novel or distinctively 
American, though there is a kind of thoroughness in embrac- 
ing or working out certain political and social conceptions 
which is less common in England. As regards literature, 
nothing at present indicates the emergence of a new type. 
The influence of the great nations on one another grows always 
closer, and makes new national types less likely to appear. 
Science, which has no national^, exerts a growing sway over 
men's minds, and exerts it contemporaneously and similarly in 
all civilized countries. For the purposes of thought, at least, 
if not of literary expression, the world draws closer together, 
and becomes more of a homogeneous community. 

A visitor doubts whether the United States are, so far as 
the things of the mind are concerned, "a new country." The 
people have the hopefulness of youth. But their institutions 
are old, though many have been remodelled or new faced ; 
their religion is old ; their views of morality and conduct are 
old; their sentiments in matters of art and taste have not 
greatly diverged from those of the parent stock. Is the mere 
fact that they inhabit new territories, and that the conditions 
of life there have trained to higher efficiency certain gifts, and 
have left others in comparative quiescence, is this fact suffi- 
cient so to transform the national spirit as to make the pro- 
ducts of their creative power essentially diverse from those of 
the same race abiding in its ancient seats ? A transplanted 
tree may bear fruit of a slightly different flavour, but the apple 
remains an apple and the pear a pear. 

However, it is still too early in the growth of the United 
States to form conclusions on these high matters, almost too 
soon to speculate regarding them. There are causes at work 
which may in time produce a new type of intellectual life ; but 
whether or not this come to pass, it can hardly be doubted that 
when the American people give themselves some repose from 
their present labours, when they occupy themselves less with 
doing and more with being, there will arise among them a litera- 
ture and a science, possibly also an art, which will tell upon 
Europe with a new force. It will have behind it the momentum 
of hundreds of millions of m?n. 



CHAPTER CXIII 

THE ABSENCE OF A CAPITAL 

The United States are the only great country in the world 
which has no capital. Germany and Italy were long without 
one. because the existence of the mediaeval Empire prevented 
the growth in either country of a national monarchy. But the 
wonderfully reconstructive age we live in has now supplied the 
want ; and although Rome and Berlin still fall short of being 
to their respective states what Paris and London are to France 
and England, what Vienna and Pesth are to the Dual Mon- 
archy, they bid fair to attain a similar rank l in their respective 
nations. By a Capital I mean a city which is not only the 
seat of political government, but is also by the size, wealth, 
and character of its population the head and centre of the 
country, a leading seat of commerce and industry, a reservoir 
of financial resources, the favoured residence of the great and 
powerful, the spot in which the chiefs of the learned profes- 
sions are to be found, where the most potent and widely read 
journals are published, whither men of literary and scientific 
capacity are drawn. The heaping together in such a place of 
these various elements of power, the conjunction of the forces 
of rank, wealth, knowledge, intellect, naturally makes such a 
city a sort of foundry in which opinion is melted and cast, 
where it receives that definite shape in which it can be easily 
and swiftly propagated and diffused through the whole country, 

1 Athens, Lisbon, Copenhagen, Stockholm, Brussels, are equally good in- 
stances among the smaller countries. In Switzerland, Bern has not reached 
the same position, because Switzerland is a federation, and, so to speak, an 
artificial country made by history. Zurich, Lausanne, and Geneva are intel- 
lectually quite as influential. So Holland retains traces of her federal condi- 
tion in the relatively less important position of Amsterdam. Madrid being a 
modern city placed in a country less perfectly consolidated than most of the 
other states of Europe, is less of a capital to Spain than Lisbon is to Portugal 
or Paris to France. 

791 



792 SOCIAL INSTITUTIONS part vi 

deriving not only an authority from the position of those who 
form it but a momentum from the weight of numbers in the 
community whence it comes. The opinion of such a city 
becomes powerful politically because it is that of the persons 
who live at headquarters, who hold the strings of government 
in their hands, who either themselves rule the state or are 
in close contact with those who do. It is true that under a 
representative government power rests with those whom the 
people have sent up from all parts of the country. Still these 
members of the legislature reside in the capital, and cannot 
but feel the steady pressure of its prevailing sentiment which 
touches them socially at every point. It sometimes happens 
that the populace of the capital, by their power of overawing 
the rulers or perhaps effecting a revolution, are able to turn 
the fortunes of the state. But even where no such peril is to 
be apprehended, any nation with the kind of a capital I am 
describing, acquires the habit of looking to it for light and 
leading, and is apt to yield to it an initiative in political 
movements. 

In the field of art and literature the influence of a great 
capital is no less marked. It gathers to a centre the creative 
power of the country, and subjects it to the criticism of the 
best instructed and most polished society. The constant 
action and reaction upon one another of groups of capable 
men in an atmosphere at once stimulative to invention and 
corrective of extravagance may give birth to works which 
isolated genius could hardly have produced. Goethe made 
this observation as regards Paris, contrasting the centralized 
society of France with the dispersion of the elements of cul- 
ture over the wide area of his own Germany. 

"Now conceive a city like Paris, where the highest talents of a great 
kingdom are all assembled in a single spot, and by daily intercourse, 
strife, and emulation, mutually instruct and advance each other ; where 
the best works, both of nature and art, from all kingdoms of the earth, 
are open to daily inspection, — conceive this metropolis of the world, I 
say, where every walk across a bridge or across a square recalls some 
mighty past, and where some historical event is connected with every 
corner of a street. In addition to all this, conceive not the Paris of a 
dull spiritless time, but the Paris of the nineteenth century, in which, 
during three generations, such men as Moliere, Voltaire, Diderot, and the 
like, have kept up such a current of intellect as cannot be found twice in 



Uap.cxui THE ABSENCE OF A CAPITAL 793 



■ single spot on the whole world, and you will oomprehend thai a man <>t 
talent like Ampfcre, who has grown up amid such abundance, can easily 
be something in his four-and-twentietb year?' l 

The same idea of the power which a highly polished and 
strenuously active society has to educe and develop brilliant 
gilts underlies the memorable description which Pericles gives 
of Athens.- And the influence of such a society may be con- 
templated with the greater satisfaction because it does not 
necessarily impoverish the rest of a country. The centraliza- 
tion of intellectual life may tend to diminish the chances of 
variability, and establish too uniform a type; but it probably 
gives a higher efficiency to the men of capacity whom it draws 
into its own orbit than they could have attained in the isola- 
tion of their natal spot. 

In the case both of politics and of literature, the existence 
of a capital tends to strengthen the influence of what is called 
Society, that is to say, of the men of wealth and leisure who 
have time to think of other matters than the needs of daily 
life, and whose company and approval are apt to be sought by 
the men of talent. Thus where the rich and great are gath- 
ered in one spot to which the nation looks, they effect more in 
the way of guiding its political thought and training its liter- 
ary taste than is possible where they are dispersed over the 
face of a large country. In both points, therefore, it will evi- 
dently make a difference to a democratic country whether it 
has a capital, and what degree of deference that capital 
receives. Paris is the extreme case of a city which has been 
everything to the national literature and art, and has sought 
to be everything in national politics also. London, since the 
decline of Dublin and of Edinburgh, has stood without a 
British rival in the domain of art and letters, and although 
one can hardly say that a literary society exists in London, 
most of the people who employ themselves in writing books 
and nearly all those who paint pictures live in or near it. 
Over politics London has less authority than Paris has exerted 
in France, doubtless because parts of the north and west of 
Britain are more highly vitalized than the provinces of France. 
while the English city is almost too populous to have a com- 
mon feeling. Its very hugeness makes it amorphous. 

1 Conversation* with Eckermann - Thocyd. II. .'57-41 



794 SOCIAL INSTITUTIONS 



What are the cities of the United States which can claim 
to approach nearest to the sort of capital we have been con- 
sidering ? Not Washington, though it is the meeting-place of 
Congress and the seat of Federal administration. It has a 
relatively small population (in 1890, 230,392, of whom one- 
third were negroes). Society consists of congressmen (for 
about half the year), officials, diplomatists, and some rich and 
leisured people who come to spend the winter. The leaders of 
finance, industry, commerce, and the professions are absent ; 
there are few men of letters, no artists, hardly any journal- 
ists. What is called the fashionable society of Washington, 
which, being small, polished, and composed of people who 
constantly meet one another, is agreeable, and not the less 
agreeable because it has a peculiar flavour, is so far from aspir- 
ing to political authority as to deem it "bad form" to talk 
politics. 1 Its political society on the other hand is so largely 
composed of officials, "professionals," and office-seekers, as 
to produce an atmosphere unlike that of the nation at large, 
and dangerous to those statesmen who breathe it too long- 
without interruption. 

Not New York, though it is now by far the most populous 
city. It is the centre of commerce, the sovereign of finance. 
But it has no special political influence or power beyond that of 
casting a large vote, which is an inportant factor in determin- 
ing the thirty-six presidential votes of the State. Business is 
its main occupation : the representatives of literature are few ; 
the journals, although certainly among the ablest and most 
widely read in the country, are, after all, New York journals, 
and not, like those of Paris, London, or even Berlin, pro- 
fessedly written for the whole nation. Next comes Philadel- 
phia, once the first city of the Union, but now standing below 
New York in all the points just mentioned, with even less 
claim to be deemed a centre of art or opinion. Boston was for 
a time the chosen home of letters and culture, and still contains, 
in proportion to her population, a larger number of men and 
women capable of making or judging good work than any other 

1 Washington being situated in the Federal District of Columbia is not a 
part of any State, and therefore enjoys no share in the Federal government. 
Its inhabitants can vote neither for a member of Congress nor for presiden- 
tial electors; and the city is ruled, greatly to its advantage, by a Federal 
Commission. It is indeed the only well governed large city in the country. 



t-n.vr. cxiii THE ABSENCE OY A CAPITAL 79i 



city. But she can no longer be said to Lead abstract thoughl ; 
much less current opinion. Chicago combines a vast popula- 
tion, now second to that of New York (Mil\, with a central 
position: she is in some respects more of a typical American 
city than any of the others I have name;l. But Chicago, so 
far as political initiative goes, lias no more weight than what 
the number of her voters represents, and does not yet count in 
art or literature. Nor can one say that any of these cities is on 
the way to gain a more commanding position. New York will 
probably retain her pre-eminence in population and commercial 
consequence, but she does not rise proportionately in culture, 
while the centre of political gravity, shifting ever more and 
more to the West, will doubtless finally fix itself in the Missis- 
sippi valley. 1 

It deserves to be remarked that what is true of the whole 
country is also true of the great sections of the country. Of 
the cities I have named, none, except possibly Boston and San 
Francisco, can be said to be even a local capital, either for 
purposes of political opinion or of intellectual movement and 
tendency. Boston retains her position as the literary centre 
of Xew England: San Francisco has by her size a preponder- 
ating influence on the Pacific coast. But no other great city 
is regarded by the inhabitants of her own and the adjoining 
States as their natural head, to which, they look for political 
guidance, or from which they expect any intellectual stimu- 
lance. Even Xew Orleans, though by far the largest place in 
the South, is in no sense the metropolis of the South ; and 
does little more for the South than set a conspicuous example 
of municipal misgovernment to the surrounding common- 
wealths. Though no Paris, no Berlin, stands above them, 
these great American cities are not more important in the 
country, or even in their own sections of the country, than 
Lyons and Bordeaux are in France, Hamburg and Cologne in 
Germany. Even as between municipal communities, even in 

1 A leading Xtw York paper says (March, 1888), "In no capital that we 
know of does the cause of religion and morality derive so little support against 
luxury from intellectual interest or activity of any description. This interest 
has its place here, but it leads a sickly existence as yet under the shadow of 
great wealth which cares not for it." This remark applies with equal force 
to Chicago and San Francisco, probably less to Baltimore, and still less to Bos- 
ton and some of the smaller cities. 



796 SOCIAL INSTITUTIONS part vi 

the sphere of thought and literary effort, equality and local 
independence have in America their perfect work. 

The geographical as well as political causes that have pro- 
duced this equality are obvious enough, and only one needs 
special mention. The seat of Federal government was in 1790 
fixed at a place which was not even a village, but a piece of 
swampy woodland, 1 not merely for the sake of preventing the 
national legislature from being threatened by the mob of a great 
city, but because the jealousies of the States made it necessary 
to place the legislature in a spot exempt from all State influence 
or jurisdiction. So too in each State the seat of government is 
rarely to be found in the largest city. Albany, not New York, 
is the capital of New York State ; Springfield, not Chicago, 
of Illinois 5 Sacramento, not San Francisco, of California ; 
Harrisburg, not Philadelphia, of Pennsylvania. This seems to 
have been so ordered not from fear of the turbulence of a vast 
population, but partly to secure a central spot, partly from the 
jealousy which the rural districts and smaller cities feel of 
the place which casts the heaviest vote, and may seek to use 
the State resources for its own benefit. 

It is a natural result of the phenomena described that in 
the United States public opinion crystallizes both less rapidly 
and in less sharp and well-defined forms than happens in those 
European countries which are led by the capital. The tem- 
perature of the fluid in which opinion takes shape (if I may 
venture to pursue the metaphor), is not so high all over a 
large country as in the society of a city, where the minds that 
make opinion are in daily contact, and the process by which 
opinion is made is therefore slower, giving a somewhat more 
amorphous product. I do not mean that a European capital 
generates opinion of one type only ; but that each doctrine, 
each programme, each type of views, whether political or 

1 Congress, however, did not remove from Philadelphia to the hanks of the 
Potomac until 1800. Thomas Moore's lines on Washington as he saw it in 1804 
deserve to he quoted : — 

" An embryo capital where Fancy sees 
Squares in morasses, obelisks in trees ; 
Where second-sighted seers the plain adorn 
With fanes unbuilt and heroes yet unborn, 
Though nought but woods and Jefferson they see, 
Where streets should run, and sages ought to be." 



OHAF. cxm THE ABSENCE OF A CAPITAL 707 



economic or religious, is likely to assume in a capital its 
sharpest and most pronounced form, that form being taken up 
and propagated from the capital through the country. And 

this is one reason why Americans were the first to adopt the 
a of Conventions, mass meetings of persons belonging to 

a particular party or advocating a particular cause, gathered 

from every corner of the country to exchange their ideas and 
deliberate on their common policy. 

It may be thought that m this respect the United States 
suffer from the absence of a centre of light and heat. Admit- 
ting that there is some loss, there are also some conspicuous 
gains. It is a gain that the multitude of no one city should 
be able to overawe the executive and the legislature, perhaps 
even to change the form of government, as Paris has so often 
done in France. It is a gain, for a democratic country, that 
the feeling of what is called Society — that is to say. of those 
who toil not. neither do they spin, who are satisfied .with the 
world, and are apt to regard it as a place for enjojmient — 
should not become too marked and palpable in its influence on 
the members of the legislature and the administration, that it 
should rather be diffused over the nation and act insensibly 
upon other classes through the ordinary relations of private 
life than take visible shape as the voice of a number of 
wealthy families gathered in one spot, whose luxury may ren- 
der them the objects of envy, and the target for invective. 
And although types of political view may form themselves 
less swiftly, though doctrines may be less systematic, pro- 
grammes less fully reasoned out than vrhen the brisk intelli- 
gence of groups gathered in a capital labours to produce them, 
they may. when they do finally emerge from the mind of the 
whole people, have a breadth and solidity proportioned to the 
slowness of their growth, and be more truly representative of 
all the classes, interests, and tendencies that exist within the 
nation. 

How far the loss exceeds the gain as respects the specu- 
lative anil artistic sides of intellectual effort, it is too soon to 
determine, for American cities are all the creatures of the lust 
sixty That which Goethe admired in Paris is evidently 

5 of America. On the other 
hand, that indraught "i talent from the provinces to Paris 



SOCIAL INSTITUTIONS 



which many thoughtful Frenchmen deplore, and which has 
become more unfortunate since Paris has grown to be the 
centre of amusement for the dissipated classes of Europe, is 
an experience which no other country need wish to undergo. 
Germany has not begun to produce more work or better work 
since she has given herself a capital; indeed, he who looks 
back over her annals since the middle of last century will 
think that so far as scholarship, metaphysics, and possibly 
even poetrj^ are concerned, she gained from that very want of 
centralization which Goethe regretted. Great critics realize 
so vividly the defects of the system they see around them 
that they sometimes underrate the merits that go with those 
defects. It may be that in the next age American cities will 
profit by their local independence to develop varieties greater 
than they now exhibit, and will evolve diverse tj^pes of liter- 
ary and artistic production. Europe will watch with curiosity 
the progress of an experiment which it is now too late for any 
of her great countries to try. 



CHAPTER CXIV 

AMERICAN ORATORY 

Oratory is an accomplishment in which Europeans believe 
that Americans excel ; and that this is the opinion of the Ameri- 
cans themselves, although they are too modest to express it, 
may be gathered from the surprise they betray when they find 
an Englishman fluent before an audience. Fifty years ago 
they had the advantage (if it is an advantage) of much more 
practice than any European nation ; but now, with democracy 
triumphant in England and France, the proportion of speeches 
and speaking to population is probably much the same in all 
three countries. Some observations on a form of effort which 
has absorbed a good deal of the talent of the nation, seem 
properly to belong to an account of its intellectual life. 

Oratorical excellence may be said to consist in the combina- 
tion of five aptitudes — 

Invention, that is to say, the power of finding good ideas and 
weaving effective arguments. 

Skill and taste in the choice of appropriate words. 

Readiness in producing appropriate ideas and words at short 
notice. 

Quickness in catching the temper and tendencies of the par- 
ticular audience addressed. 

Weight, animation, and grace in delivery. 

Such excellence as the Americans posses*, such superiority 
as they may claim over Englishmen, consists rather in the 
three latter of these than in the two former. 

The substance of their speeches is not better than one finds 
in other countries, because substance depends on the intellectual 
resources of the speaker and on the capacity of the audience 
for appreciating worthy matter. Neither is the literary form 
better, that is to say, the ideas are not clothed in any choicer 
language. But there is more fluency, more readiness, more 

799 



800 SOCIAL INSTITUTIONS part vi 

self-possession. Being usually nimbler in mind than an 
Englishman, and feeling less embarrassed on his legs, an 
American is apt to see his point more clearly and to get at it 
by a more direct path. He is less frequently confused and 
clumsy, less prosy also, because his sympathy with the audi- 
ence tells him when they begin to tire, and makes him sensible 
of the necessity of catching and holding their attention. I do 
not deny that American speakers sometimes weary the listener, 
but when they do so it is rather because the notions are com- 
monplace and the arguments unsound than because, as might 
happen in England, ideas of some value are tediously and 
pointlessly put. It is true that with the progress of demo- 
cracy, and the growing volume of speeches made, the level of 
average public speaking has in Britain risen within the last 
twenty or thirty years, while the number of great orators has 
declined till now scarce any are left. Still, if one is to compare 
the two countries, the English race seems to have in America 
acquired a keener sensitiveness of sympathy. That habit of 
deference to others, and that desire to be in accord with the 
sentiments of others, which equality and democratic institutions 
foster, make the American feel himself more completely one 
of the audience and a partaker of its sentiments than an aver- 
age English speaker does. This may have the consequence, if 
the audience be ignorant or prejudiced, of dragging him down 
to its level. But it makes him more effective. Needless to 
add that humour, which is a commoner gift in America than 
elsewhere, often redeems an otherwise uninteresting address, 
and is the best means of keeping speaker and audience in touch 
with one another. 

A deliberate and even slow delivery is the rule in American 
public speaking, as it is in private conversation. This has the 
advantage of making a story or a jest tell with more effect. 
There is also, I think, less stiffness and hesitation among 
American than among English speakers, greater skill in man- 
aging the voice, because more practice in open-air meetings, 
greater clearness of enunciation. But as regards grace, either 
in action or in manner, the Teutonic race shows no more 
capacity on the other side of the Atlantic than it has generally 
done in England for rivalling the orators of Italy, Spain, and 
France. 



chap, cxiv AMERICAN ORATORY 801 

The commonest American defect is a turgid and inflated 
style. The rhetoric is Ehodian rather than Attic, overloaded 
with tropes and figures, apt to aim at concealing poverty or 
triteness in thought by exaggeration of statement, by a profu- 
sion of ornament, by appeals to sentiments too lofty for the 
subject or the occasion. The florid diction of the debating club 
or the solemn pomp of the funeral oration is frequently invoked 
when nothing but clearness of exposition or cogency of argu- 
ment is needed. These faults have probably sprung from the 
practice of stump oratory, in which the temptation to rouse a 
multitude by declamation is specially strong. A man straining 
his voice in the open air is apt to strain his phrases also, and 
command attention by vehemence. They have been increased 
by the custom of having orations delivered on certain anniver- 
saries, and especially on the Fourth of July, for on these great 
occasions the speaker feels bound to talk " his very tallest." 
Public taste, which was high in the days after the Revolution, 
when it was formed and controlled by a small number of edu- 
cated men, began to degenerate in the first half of this century. 
Despite the influence of several orators of the first rank, inces- 
sant stump speaking and the inordinate vanity of the average 
audience brought a florid or inflated style into fashion, which 
became an easy mark for European satire. Of late years a 
reaction for the better seems to have set in. There are still 
those who imitate Macaulay or Webster without the richness 
of the one or the stately strength of the other. The news- 
papers, in acknowledging that a lecturer is fluent or lucid, still 
complain if he is not also "eloquent." Commemorative ad- 
dresses, which are far more abundant than in Europe, usually 
sin by over-finish of composition. But on the whole there has 
been an improvement in the taste of listeners and in the style 
of speeches. Such improvement would be more rapid were it 
not for the enormous number of speeches by people who have 
really nothing to say, as well as by able men on occasions when 
there is nothing to be said which has not been said hundreds 
of times before. This is, of course, almost equally true of 
England, and indeed of all popularly governed countries. Those 
who disparage popular government may fairly count profusion 
of speech as one of the drawbacks to democracy, and a draw- 
back which shows no signs of disappearing. 

VOL. II 3 F 



802 SOCIAL INSTITUTIONS part vi 

As respects the different kinds of oratory, that of the pulpit 
seems to show an average slightly higher than in England. 
The visitor naturally hears the best preachers, for these are of 
course drawn to the cities, but whether he takes cities or rural 
districts he forms the impression that mere dulness and com- 
monplace are less common than in Great Britain, though high 
excellence may be equally rare. Even when the discourse is 
read, it is read in a less mechanical way, and there is altogether 
more sense of the worth of vivacity and variety. The average 
length of sermons is a mean between the twenty minutes of an 
Anglican minister and the fifty minutes of Scotland. The man- 
ner is slightly less conventional, because the American clergy- 
man is less apt than his European brother to feel himself a 
member of a distinct caste. 

Eorensic oratory seems to stand neither higher nor lower 
than it does in England, whose bar is not at this moment 
adorned by any speakers whom men go to hear simply for the 
sake of their eloquence, as men flocked to listen to Erskine or 
Brougham or Eollett. In America, as in England, there are 
many powerful advocates, but no consummate artist. Whether 
this is due to the failure of nature to produce persons specially 
gifted, or to the absence of trials whose issues and circum- 
stances are calculated to rouse forensic ability to exceptional 
efforts, or to a change in public taste, and a disposition to pre- 
fer the practical to the showy, is a question which is often 
asked in England, and no easier to answer in America. 

Congress, for reasons explained in the chapter treating of it, 
is a less favourable theatre for oratory than the great represen- 
tative assemblies of Europe. The House of Eepresentatives 
has at no period of its history shone with lights of eloquence, 
though a few of Clay's great speeches were delivered in it. 
There is some good short brisk debating in Committee of the 
Whole, but the set speeches are mostly pompous and heavy. 
The Senate long maintained a' higher level, partly from the 
smaller size of its chamber, partly from its greater leisure, 
partly from the superior ability of its members. Webster's 
and Calhoun's greatest efforts were made on its floor, and pro- 
duced an enormous effect on the nation. At present, however, 
the " full-dress debates " in the Senate want life, the long set 
speeches being fired off rather with a view to their circulation 



cnw. rxiv AMERICAN ORATORY 803 



in the country than to any immediate effect on the as- 
sembly. But the ordinary discussions of bills, or questions 
of policy, reveal plenty of practical speaking power. If there 
be little passion and no brilliancy, there is strong common- 
sense put in a plain and telling form. 

Of the forty-seven State and Territorial legislatures not much 
need be said. In them, as in the House of Representatives, 
the bulk of the work is done in committees, and the oppor- 
tunities for displays of eloquence are limited, w r hich it is well 
should be the case. They are good enough schools to form a 
practical business speaker, and they do form many such. But 
the characteristic merits and defects of transatlantic oratory 
are more fully displayed on the stump and in those national 
and State nominating conventions whereof I have already 
spoken. So far as the handling great assemblies is an art 
attainable by a man who does not possess the highest gifts of 
thought and imagination, it has been brought to perfection by 
the heroes of these mass meetings. They have learned how 
to deck out commonplaces with the gaudier flowers of elo- 
quence ; how to appeal to the dominant sentiment of the mo- 
ment : above all, how to make a strong and flexible voice the 
means of rousing enthusiasm. They scathe the opposite part}^ 
by vigorous invective ; they interweave stories and jokes with 
their declamatory passages so as to* keep the audience con- 
stantly amused. They deliver contemptible clap-trap with an 
air of hearty conviction. The party men who listen, because 
there are few present at a mass meeting, and still fewer at a 
convention, except members of the party which has convoked 
the gathering, are better pleased with themselves than ever, 
and go away roused to effort in the party cause. But there 
has been little argument all through, little attempt to get hold 
of the reason and judgment of the people. Stimulation, and 
not instruction or conviction, is the aim which the stump orator 
sets before himself ; and the consequence is that an election 
campaign is less educationally valuable than one conducted in 
England, though by men less practised and skilful in speaking, 
usually proves to English electors. It is worth remarking that 
the custom which in England requires a representative to de- 
liver at least once a year an address to his constituents, setting 
forth his view of the political situation and explaining his own 



804 SOCIAL INSTITUTIONS part vi 

speeches and votes during the preceding session, does not seem 
to be general in the United States. In fact the people of the 
Northern States receive less political instruction by the living 
voice than do those of England. When an instructive address 
has to be given, it takes the form of a lecture, and is usually 
delivered by some well-known public man, who receives a fee 
for it. 

There are three kinds of speech which, though they exist in 
most European countries, have been so much more fully devel- 
oped beyond the Atlantic as to deserve some notice. 

The first of these is the Oration of the Occasion. When an 
anniversary comes round — and celebrations of an anniversary 
are very common in America — or when a sort of festival is 
held in honour of some public event, such for instance as the 
unveiling of a statue, or the erection of a monument on a 
battlefield, or the opening of a city hall or State capitol, or 
the driving the last spike of a great railroad, a large part of 
the programme is devoted to speaking. The chief speech is 
entrusted to one eminent person, who is called the Orator of 
the Day, and from whom is expected a long and highly finished 
harangue, the length and finish of which are wearisome to a 
critical outsider, though the people of the locality are flattered. 
Sometimes these speeches contain good matter — I could men- 
tion instances where they have embodied personal recollections 
of a distinguished man in whose honour the celebration was 
being held — but the sort of artificial elevation at which the 
speaker usually feels bound to maintain himself is apt to make 
him pompous and affected. 

Although public dinners are less frequent than in England, 
speeches of a complimentary and purely " epideictic " nature 
of the English public banquet type are very common. There 
is scarcely an occasion in life which brings forty or fifty people 
together on which a prominent citizen or a stranger from 
Europe is not called upon "to offer a few remarks." No sub- 
ject is prescribed for him : often no toast has to be proposed 
or responded to : 1 he is simply put on his legs to talk upon 
anything in heaven or earth which may rise to his mind. The 

1 Of course there are often toasts given at public dinners ; but they seem to 
be fewer in number than in England, and more varied, more judiciously- 
adapted to the special occasion. 



aaup. oxrv AMERICAN ORATORY 805 

European who is at first embarrassed by this unchartered free- 
dom, presently discovers its advantages, for it enables him so 
to construct his speech as to lead up to whatever joke, or 
point, or complimentary observations he has ready at hand. 
There, is also more opening for variety than the conventional 
uniformity of an English toast-list permits. 

The third form of discourse specially characteristic of the 
United States is the Lecture. It is less frequent and less 
fashionable now than forty years ago, partly from the rise of 
monthly magazines full of excellent matter, partly because other 
kinds of evening entertainment have become more accessible to 
people outside the great cities. With the decline of Puritan 
sentiment the theatre is now more popular than it then was. 
But the Lecture is still far more frequent and more valuable 
as a means of interesting people in literary, scientific, and 
political questions than anywhere in Europe, except possibly 
in Edinburgh. And the art of lecturing has been developed 
in a corresponding measure. A discourse of this kind, what- 
ever the merits of its substance, is usually well arranged, well 
composed to meet the taste of the audience, and above all, well 
delivered. Eminent Englishmen who go to lecture in America 
are frequently criticised as ignorant of what may be called the 
technical part of their business. They may know a great deal, 
it is said, but they do not know how much the audience knows, 
and assume a lower level of intelligence and knowledge than 
exists, with the result of displeasing the latter. They are 
monotonous in manner, and unskilled in elocution. The Euro- 
pean lecturer, on the other hand, confesses himself annoyed 
not only by the irreverent comments of the press but by the 
apparent coldness of the audience, which, though it will 
applaud heartily at the end if well satisfied, refuses him the 
running encouragement of cheers, even when he invites them 
by pausing to drink a glass of water. 

This grave reserve in American listeners surprises Euro- 
peans, 1 especially those who have observed the excitability 
shown on presidential campaigns. It seems to arise from the 

1 A story is told of Edmund Kean acting before an audience in New Eng- 
land which he found so chilling that at last he refused to come on for the next 
scene unless some applause were given, observing that such a house was enough 
to extinguish Etna. 



806 SOCIAL INSTITUTIONS part vi 

practical turn of their minds as well as from their intelligence. 
In an election campaign it is necessary and expedient to give 
vent to one's feelings ; in listening to a lecture it is not. One 
comes to be instructed or entertained, and comes with a critical 
habit formed by hearing many lectures as well as reading many 
books. Something may also be due to the large proportion 
of women in an American audience at lectures or other non- 
political occasions. 

A stranger is, on the whole, inclined to think that the kind 
of oratory in which the Americans show to most advantage is 
neither the political kind, abundant as it is, nor the commemo- 
rative oration, assiduously as it is cultivated, but what may be 
called the lighter ornamental style, such as the after-dinner 
speech. The fondness of the people for anecdotes, and their 
skill in telling them, the general diffusion of humour, the 
readiness in catching the spirit of an occasion, all contribute 
to make their efforts in this direction more easy and happy 
than those of the English, while furnishing less temptation 
for the characteristic fault of a straining after effect. I have 
already observed that they shine in stump speaking, properly 
so called — that is, in speaking which rouses an audience but 
ought not to be reported. The reasons why their more serious 
platform and parliamentary oratory remains somewhat inferior 
to that of Europe are, over and above the absence of momen- 
tous issues, probably the same as those which have, though 
perhaps less in the great cities, affected the average of news- 
paper writing. In Europe the leading speakers and writers 
have nearly all belonged to the cultivated classes, and, feeling 
themselves raised above their audiences, have been in the habit 
of obeying their own taste and that of their class rather than 
the appetite of those whom they addressed. In England, for 
instance, the standard of speaking by public men has been 
set by parliamentary debate, because till within the last few 
decades the leading politicians of the country had all won 
their reputation in Parliament. They carried their parliamen- 
tary style with them into popular meetings, and aspirants of 
all classes imitated this style. It sometimes erred in being 
too formal and too prolix ; but its taste was good, and its very 
plainness obliged the speaker to have solid matter. In America, 
on the other hand, stump oratory is older, or at least quite as 



OHAF. exn A MKK1CAN ORATORY 807 

old as, congressional oratory, and the latter lias never gained 

that hold on the ideas and habits of the people which parlia- 
mentary debate held in England. Hence speaking has gener- 
ally moved on a somewhat lower level, not but what there 
were brilliant popular orators in the first days of the Republic, 
like Patrick Henry, and majestic parliamentary orators like 
Daniel Webster in the next generation, but that the volume 
of stump speaking was so much greater than in England that 
the fashion could not be set by a few of the greatest men, but 
was determined by the capacities of the average man. The 
taste of the average man was not raised by the cultivated few 
to their own standard, but tended to lower the practice, and to 
some extent even the taste, of the cultivated few. To seem 
wiser or more refined than the multitude, to incur the suspi- 
cion of talking down to the multitude, and treating them as 
inferiors, would have offended the sentiment of the country, 
and injured the prospects of a statesman. It is perhaps a 
confirmation of this view that, while pompousness has flour- 
ished in the "West, the most polished speakers have generally 
belonged to New England, where the level of average taste 
and knowledge was exceptionally high. One of these speak- 
ers, the late Mr. Wendell Phillips, was, in the opinion of com- 
petent critics, an opinion which those who remember his 
conversation will be inclined to agree with, one of the first 
orators of the present century, and not more remarkable for 
the finish than for the transparent simplicity of his style, 
which attained its highest effects by the most direct and 
natural methods. 



CHAPTER CXV 

THE PLEASANTNESS OF AMERICAN LIFE 

I have never met a European of the upper or middle classes 
who did not express astonishment when told that America 
was a more agreeable place than Europe to live in. "For 
working men," he would answer, "yes; but for men of educa- 
tion or property, how can a new rough country, where nothing 
but business is talked and the refinements of life are only just 
beginning to appear, how can such a country be compared 
with England, or Erance, or Italy?" 

It is nevertheless true that there are elements in the life of 
the United States which may well make a European of any 
class prefer to dwell there rather than in the land of his birth. 
Let us see what they are. 

In the first place there is the general prosperity and mate- 
rial well-being of the mass of the inhabitants. In Europe, if 
an observer takes his eye off his own class and considers the 
whole population of any one of the greater countries (for I 
except Switzerland and parts of Scandinavia and Portugal), he 
will perceive that by far the greater number lead very labori- 
ous lives, and are, if not actually in want of the necessities of 
existence, yet liable to fall into want, the agriculturists when 
nature is harsh, the wage-earners when work is scarce. In 
England the lot of the labourer has been hitherto a hard one, 
incessant field toil, with rheumatism at fifty and the work- 
house at the end of the vista; while the misery in such cities 
as London, Liverpool, and Glasgow is only too well known. 
In Erance there is less pauperism, but nothing can be more 
pinched and sordid than the life of the bulk of the peasantry. 
In the great towns of Germany there is constant distress and 
increasing discontent. The riots of 1886 in Belgium told an 
even more painful tale of the wretchedness of the miners and 
artisans there. In Italy the condition of the rural popula- 



chap, cxv PLEASANTNESS OF AMERICAN LIFE 809 



tion of Venetia as well as of the southern provinces serins 
to grow worse, and tills her statesmen with alarm. Of Kussia, 
with her eighty millions of peasants living in half-barbarism, 
there is no need to speak. Contrast any one of these coun- 
tries with the United States, where the working classes 
are as well fed, clothed, and lodged as the lower middle 
class in Europe, and the farmers who till their own land 
(as nearly all do) much better, where a good education is 
within the reach of the poorest, where the opportunities for 
getting on in one way or another are so abundant that no 
one need fear any physical ill but disease or the results of his 
own intemperance. Pauperism already exists and increases 
in some of the larger cities, where drink breeds misery, and 
where recent immigrants, with the shiftlessness of Europe 
still clinging round them, are huddled together in squalor. 
But outside these few cities one sees nothing but comfort. 
In Connecticut and Massachusetts the operatives in many a 
manufacturing town lead a life far easier, far more brightened 
by intellectual culture and by amusements, than that of the 
clerks and shopkeepers of England or France. In cities like 
Cleveland or Chicago one finds miles on miles of suburb filled 
with neat wooden houses, each with its tiny garden plot, 
owned by the shop assistants and handicraftsmen who return 
on the horse-cars in the evening from their work. All over 
the wide West, from Lake Ontario to the Upper Missouri, one 
travels past farms of two to three hundred acres, in every 
one of which there is a spacious farmhouse among orchards 
and meadows, where the farmer's children grow up strong 
and hearty on abundant food, the boys full of intelligence and 
enterprise, ready to push their way on farms of their own or 
enter business in the nearest town, the girls familiar with the 
current literature of England as well as of America. The 
life of the new emigrant in the further West has its priva- 
tions, but it is brightened by hope, and has a singular charm 
of freedom and simplicity. The impression which this com- 
fort and plenty makes is heightened by the brilliance and 
keenness of the air, by the look of freshness and cleanness 
which even the cities wear, all of them except the poorest parts 
of those few I have referred to above. The fog and soot-flakes 
of an English town, as well as its squalor, are wanting; you 



810 SOCIAL INSTITUTIONS part yi 

are in a new world, and a world which knows the sun. It is 
impossible not to feel warmed, cheered, invigorated by the 
sense of such material well-being all around one, impossible 
not to be infected by the buoyancy and hopefulness of the 
people. The wretchedness of Europe lies far behind; the 
weight of its problems seems lifted from the mind. As a man 
suffering from depression feels the clouds roll away from his 
spirit when he meets a friend whose good humour and energy 
present the better side of things and point the way through 
difficulties, so the sanguine temper of the Americans, and the 
sight of the ardour with which they pursue their aims, stim- 
ulates a European, and makes him think the world a better 
place than it had seemed amid the entanglements and suffer- 
ings of his own hemisphere. 

To some Europeans this may seem fanciful. I doubt if any 
European can realize till he has been in America how much 
difference it makes to the happiness of any one not wholly 
devoid of sympathy with his fellow-beings, to feel that all 
round him, in all classes of society and all parts of the coun- 
try, there exist in such ample measure so many of the external 
conditions of happiness : abundance of the necessaries of life, 
easy command of education and books, amusements and leisure 
to enjoy them, comparatively few temptations to intemper- 
ance and vice. 

The second charm of American life is one which some 
Europeans will smile at. It is social equality. To many 
Europeans — to Germans, let us say, or Englishmen — the 
word has an odious sound. It suggests a dirty fellow in 
a blouse elbowing his betters in a crowd, or an ill-condi- 
tioned villager shaking his fist at the parson and the squire ; 
or, at any rate, it suggests obtrusiveness and bad manners. 
The exact contrary is the truth. Equality improves manners, 
for it strengthens the basis of all good manners, respect for 
other men and women simply as men and women, irrespective 
of their station in life. Probably the assertion of social 
equality was one of the causes which injured American man- 
ners fifty years ago, for that they were then bad among towns- 
folk can hardly be doubted in face of the testimony, not merely 
of sharp tongues like Mrs. Trollope's, but of calm observers 
like Sir Charles Lyell and sympathetic observers like Richard 



chap, cxv PLEASANTNESS OF AMERICAN L1FF 811 



Cobden. 1 In those days there was an obtrusive self-assertive- 
ness among- the less refined classes, especially towards those 
who, coming from the Old World, were assumed to come in a 
patronizing spirit. Now, however, social equality has grown 
so naturally out of the circumstances of the country, has been 
so long established, and is so ungrudgingly admitted, that all 
excuse for obtrusiveness has disappeared. People meet on a 
simple and natural footing, with more frankness and ease than 
is possible in countries where every one is either looking up 
or looking down.' 2 There is no servility on the part of the hum- 
bler, and if now and then a little of the "I am as good as 
you" rudeness be perceptible, it is almost sure to proceed 
from a recent immigrant, to whom the attitude of simple 
equality has not yet become familiar as the evidently proper 
attitude of one man to another. There is no condescension 
on the part of the more highly placed, nor is there even that 
sort of scrupulously polite coldness which one might think 
they would adopt in order to protect their dignity. They 
have no cause to fear for their dignity, so long as they do not 
themselves forget it. And the fact that your shoemaker or 
your factory hand addresses you as an equal does not prevent 
him from respecting, and showing his respect for, all such 
superiority as your birth or education or eminence in any 
line of life may entitle you to receive. 

This naturalness of intercourse is a distinct addition to the 
pleasure of social life. It enlarges the circle of possible 
friendship, by removing the gene which in most parts of 
Europe persons of different ranks feel in exchanging their 

1 Volney, who at the end of last century commented on the "incivilite 
nationale," ascribes it " moins a un systeme d'intentions qu' a l'independance 
mutuelle, a l'isolement, an defaut des besoins reciproques." 

2 A trifling anecdote may illustrate what I mean. In a small Far Western 
town the stationmaster lent me a locomotive to run a few miles out along the 
railway to see a remarkable piece of scenery. The engine took me and dropped 
me there, as I wished to walk back, much to the surprise of the driver and stoker, 
for in America no one walks if he can help it. The same evening, as I was sit- 
ting in the hall of the hotel, I was touched on the arm, and turning round found 
myself accosted by a well-mannered man, who turned out to be the engine- 
driver. He expressed his regret that the locomotive had not been cleaner and 
better " fixed up," as he would have liked to make my trip as agreeable as 
possible, but the notice given him had been short. He talked with intelligence, 
and we had some pleasant chat together. It was fortunate that I had resisted 
in the forenoon the British impulse to bestow a gratuity. 



812 SOCIAL INSTITUTIONS part vi 

thoughts on any matters save those of business. It raises the 
humbler classes without lowering the upper; indeed, it im- 
proves the upper no less than the lower by expunging that 
latent insolence which deforms the manners of so many of 
the European rich. It relieves women in particular, who 
in Europe are specially apt to think of class distinctions, 
from that sense of constraint and uneasiness which is produced 
by the knowledge that other women with whom they come in 
contact are either looking down on them, or at any rate trying 
to gauge and determine their social position. It expands the 
range of a man's sympathies, and makes it easier for him to 
enter into the sentiments of other classes than his own. It 
gives a sense of solidarity to the whole nation, cutting away the 
ground for the jealousies and grudges which distract people so 
long as the social pretensions of past centuries linger on to be 
resisted and resented by the levelling spirit of a revolutionary 
age. And I have never heard native Americans speak of any 
drawbacks corresponding to and qualifying these benefits. 

There are, moreover, other rancours besides those of social 
inequality whose absence from America brightens it to a 
European eye. There are no quarrels of churches and sects. 
Judah does not vex Ephraim, nor Ephraim envy Judah. No 
Established Church looks down scornfully upon Dissenters 
from the height of its titles and endowments, and talks of 
them as hindrances in the way of its work. No Dissenters 
pursue an Established Church in a spirit of watchful jealousy, 
nor agitate for its overthrow. One is not offended by the 
contrast between the theory and the practice of a religion of 
peace, between professions of universal affection in pulpit 
addresses and forms of prayer, and the acrimony of clerical 
controversialists. Still less, of course, is there that sharp 
opposition and antagonism of Christians and anti-Christians 
which lacerates the private as well as public life of France. 
Rivalry between sects appears only in the innocent form of 
the planting of new churches and raising of funds for mis- 
sionary objects, while most of the Protestant denominations, 
including the four most numerous, constantly fraternize in 
charitable work. Between Roman Catholics and the more 
educated Protestants there is little hostility, and sometimes 
even co-operation for a philanthropic purpose. The sceptic 



chap, cxv PLEASANTNESS OF AMERICAN LIFE 813 

is no longer under a social ban, and discussions on the essen- 
tials of Christianity and of theism are conducted with good 
temper. There is not a country in the world where Frederick 
the Groat's principle, that every one should be allowed to go 
to heaven his own way, is so fully applied. This sense of 
religious peace as well as religious freedom all around one is 
soothing to the weary European, and contributes not a little 
to sweeten the lives of ordinary people. 

I come last to the character and ways of the Americans 
themselves, in which there is a certain charm, hard to convey 
by description, but felt almost as soon as one sets foot on their 
shore, and felt constantly thereafter. They are a kindly 
people. Good nature, heartiness, a readiness to render small 
services to one another, an assumption that neighbours in the 
country, or persons thrown together in travel, or even in a 
crowd, were meant to be friendly rather than hostile to one 
another, seem to be everywhere in the air, and in those who 
breathe it. Sociability is the rule, isolation and moroseness 
the rare exception. It is not merely that people are more 
vivacious or talkative than an Englishman expects to find 
them, for the Western man is often taciturn and seldom 
wreathes his long face into a smile. It is rather that you feel 
that the man next you, whether silent or talkative, does not 
mean to repel intercourse, or convey by his manner his low 
opinion of his fellow-creatures. Everybody seems disposed 
to think well of the world and its inhabitants, well enough at 
least to wish to be on easy terms with them and serve them 
in those little things whose trouble to the doer is small in 
proportion to the pleasure they give to the receiver. To help 
others is better recognized as a duty than in Europe. No- 
where is money so readily given for any public purpose; 
nowhere, I suspect, are there so many acts of private kindness 
done, such, for instance, as paying the college expenses of a 
promising boy, or aiding awidow to carry on her husband's 
farm ; and these are not done with ostentation. People seem 
to take their own troubles more lightly than they do in 
Europe, and to be more indulgent to the faults by which 
troubles are caused. It is a land of hope, and a land of hope 
is a land of good humour. And they have also, though this 
is a quality more perceptible in women than in men, a re- 



814 SOCIAL INSTITUTIONS part vi 

markable faculty for enjoyment, a power of drawing more 
happiness from obvious pleasures, simple and innocent pleas- 
ures, than one often finds in overburdened Europe. 

As generalizations like this are necessarily comparative, I 
may be asked with whom I am comparing the Americans. 
With the English, or with some attempted average of Euro- 
pean nations? Primarily I am comparing them with the Eng- 
lish, because they are the nearest relatives of the English. 
But there are other European countries, such as France, Bel- 
gium, Spain, in which the sort of cheerful friendliness I have 
sought to describe is less common than it is in America. 
Even in Germany and German Austria, simple and kindly as 
are the masses of the people, the upper classes have that 
roideur which belongs to countries dominated by an old aris- 
tocracy, or by a plutocracy trying to imitate aristocratic 
ways. The upper class in America (if one may use such an 
expression) has not in this respect differentiated itself from 
the character of the nation at large. 

If the view here presented be a true one, to what causes 
are we to ascribe this agreeable development of the original 
English type, a development in whose course the sadness of 
Puritanism seems to have been shed off? 

Perhaps one of them is the humorous turn of the American 
character. Humour is a sweetener of temper, a copious spring 
of charity, for it makes the good side of bad things even more 
visible than the weak side of good things; but humour in 
Americans may be as much a result of an easy and kindly 
turn as their kindliness is of their humour. Another is the 
perpetuation of a habit of mutual help formed in colonial 
days. Colonists need one another's aid more constantly than 
the dwellers in an old country, are thrown more upon one 
another, even when they live scattered in woods or prairies, 
are more interested in one another's welfare. When you 
have only three neighbours within five miles, each of them 
covers a large part of your horizon. You want to borrow a 
plough from one; you get another to help you to roll your 
logs; your children's delight is to go over for an evening's 
merrymaking to the lads and lasses of the third. It is much 
pleasanter to be on good terms with these few neighbours, and 
when others come one by one, they fall into the same habits 



chap, cxv PLEASANTNESS OF AMERICAN LIFE 815 

of intimacy. Any one who has read those stories of rustic 
New England or New York life which delighted the English 
children of forty years ago — I do not know whether they 
delight children still, or have been thrown aside for more 
highly spiced food — will remember the warm-hearted simplic- 
ity and atmosphere of genial good-will which softened the 
roughness of peasant manners and tempered the sternness of 
a Calvinistic creed. It is natural that the freedom of inter- 
course and sense of interdependence which existed among the 
early settlers, and which have always existed since among 
the pioneers of colonization in the West as they moved from 
the Connecticut to the Mohawk, from the Mohawk to the Ohio, 
from the Ohio to the Mississppi, should have left on the 
national character traces not effaced even in the more artificial 
civilization of our own time. Something may be set down to 
the feeling of social equality, creating that respect for a man 
as a man, whether he be rich or poor, which was described a 
few pages back; and something to a regard for the sentiment 
of the multitude, a sentiment which forbids any man to stand 
aloof in the conceit of self-importance, and holds up geniality 
and good fellowship as almost the first of social virtues. I 
do not mean that a man consciously suppresses his impulses 
to selfishness or gruffness because he knows that his faults 
will be ill regarded; but that, having grown up in a society 
which is infinitely powerful as compared with the most power- 
ful person in it, he has learnt to realize his individual insig- 
nificance, as members of the upper class in Europe never do, 
and has become permeated by the feeling which this society 
entertains — that each one's duty is not only to accept equal- 
ity, but also to relish equality, and to make himself pleasant 
to his equals. Thus the habit is formed even in natures of no 
special sweetness, and men become kindly by doing kindly acts. 
Whether, however, these suggestions be right or wrong, 
there is no doubt as to the fact which they attempt to explain. 
I do not, of course, give it merely as the casual impression of 
European visitors, whom a singularly frank and ready hospi- 
tality welcomes and makes much of. I base it on the reports 
of European friends who have lived for years in the United 
States, and whose criticism of the ways and notions of the peo- 
ple is keen enough to show that they are no partial witnesses. 



CHAPTER CXVI 

THE UNIFORMITY OF AMERICAN LIFE 

To the pleasantness of American life there is one, and perhaps 
only one, serious drawback — its uniformity. Those who have 
been struck by the size of America, and by what they have heard 
of its restless excitement, may be surprised at the word. They 
would have guessed that an unquiet changefulness and turmoil 
were the disagreeables to be feared. But uniformity, which the 
European visitor begins to note when he has travelled for a 
month or two, is the feature of the country which Englishmen 
who have lived long there, and Americans who are familiar 
with Europe, most frequently revert to when asked to say 
what is the " crook in their lot." 

It is felt in many ways. I will name a few. 

It is felt in the aspects of nature. All the natural features 
of the United States are on a larger scale than those of Europe. 
The four chief mountain chains are each of them longer than 
the Alps. 1 Of the gigantic rivers and of those inland seas we 
call the Great Lakes one need not speak. The centre of the 
continent is occupied by a plain larger than the western half 
of Europe. In the Mississippi valley, from the Gulf of Mexico 
to Lake Superior, there is nothing deserving to be called a hill, 
though, as one moves westward from the great river, long soft 
undulations in the boundless prairie begin to appear. Through 
vast stretches of country one finds the same physical character 
maintained with little change — the same strata, the same vege- 
tation, a generally similar climate. From the point where you 
leave the Alleghanies at Pittsburg, until after crossing the 
Missouri, you approach the still untilled prairie of the West, 

1 The Alleghanies, continued in the Green and White Mountains, the Rocky- 
Mountains, the Sierra Nevada, continued in the Cascade Range, and the Coast 
Range which borders the Pacific. 



chap, rxvi THE UNIFORMITY OF AMERICAN LIFE 817 

a railway run of some thousand miles, there is a uniformity of 
landscape greater than could be found along any one hundred 
miles of railway run in Western Europe. Everywhere the 
same nearly flat country, over which you cannot see far, be- 
cause you are little raised above it, the same fields and crops, 
the same rough wooden fences, the same thickets of the same 
bushes along the stream edges, with here and there a bit of 
old forest ; the same solitary farmhouses and straggling wood- 
built villages. And when one has passed beyond the fields 
and farmhouses, there is an even more unvaried stretch of 
slightly rolling prairie, smooth and bare, till after five hun- 
dred miles the blue line of the Eocky Mountains rises upon 
the western horizon. 

There are some extraordinary natural phenomena, such as 
Niagara, the Yellowstone Geysers, and the great canon of the 
Colorado Eiver, which Europe cannot equal. But taking the 
country as a whole, and remembering that it is a continent, it 
is not more rich in picturesque beauty than the much smaller 
western half of Europe. The long Alle'ghany range contains 
a good deal of pretty scenery and a few really romantic spots, 
but hardly anything so charming as the best bits of Scotland 
or Southern Ireland, or the English Lake country. The Rocky 
Mountains are pierced by some splendid gorges, such as the 
famous carlon of the Arkansas Eiver above South Pueblo, and 
show some very grand prospects, such as that over the Great 
Salt Lake from the Mormon capital. But neither the Eocky 
Mountains, with their dependent ranges, nor the Sierra 
Xevada, can be compared for variety of grandeur and beauty 
with the Alps ; for although each chain nearly equals the Alps 
in height, and covers a greater area, they have little snow, no 
glaciers, 1 and a singular uniformity of character. One finds, 
I think, less variety in the whole chain of the Eockies than in 
the comparatively short Pyrenees. There are, indeed, in the 
whole United States very few quite first-rate pieces of moun- 
tain scenery rivalling the best of the Old World. The most 
impressive are two or three of the deep valleys of the Sierra 
Xevada (of which the Yosemite is the best known), and the 
superb line of extinct volcanoes, bearing snow-fields and 

1 There are a few inconsiderable glaciers in the northernmost part of the 
Rocky Mountains, and a small one on Mount Shasta. 

VOL. II 3 Gt 



818 SOCIAL INSTITUTIONS part vi 

glaciers, which one sees, rising out of vast and sombre forests, 
from the banks of the Columbia River and the shores of Puget 
Sound. 1 So the Atlantic coast, though there are charming 
bits between Newport and the New Brunswick frontier, can- 
not vie with the coasts of Scotland, Ireland, or Norway; 
while southward from New York to Florida it is everywhere 
flat and often dreary. In the United States people take 
journeys proportionate to the size of the country. A family 
thinks nothing of going twelve hundred miles, from St. Louis 
to Cape May (near Philadelphia), for a seaside holiday. But 
even journeys of twelve hundred miles do not give an Ameri- 
can so much change of scene and variety of surroundings as a 
Parisian has when he goes to Nice, or a Berliner to Berchtes- 
gaden. The man who lives in the section of America which 
seems destined to contain the largest population, I mean the 
States on the Upper Mississippi, lives in the midst of a plain 
wider than the plains of Russia, and must travel hundreds of 
miles to escape from its monotony. 

When we turn from the aspects of nature to the cities of 
men, the uniformity is even more remarkable. With eight or 
nine exceptions to be mentioned presently, American cities 
differ from one another only herein, that some of them are 
built more with brick than with wood, and others more with 
wood than with brick. In all else they are alike, both great 
and small. In all the same wide streets, crossing at right 
angles, ill-paved, but planted along the sidewalks with maple- 
trees whose autumnal scarlet surpasses the brilliance of any 
European foliage. 2 In all the same shops, arranged on the 

1 1 have been obliged by want of space to omit the chapters which were 
intended to describe the scenery of the United States and conjecture its prob- 
able future influence on the character of the people. 

Nothing is further from my mind than to attempt to disparage the scenery 
of the Great West, which contains, from the eastern slope of the Rocky Moun- 
tains to the Pacific, many very striking and impressive points. I only say 
that they are less beautiful than the Alps, just as the mountains of Asia 
Minor, even when equal or superior in height, are less beautiful, and largely 
for the same reason. They are much drier, and have therefore fewer streams 
and less variety and wealth of vegetation, the upper zone of the Sierra 
Nevada excepted ; and the Rockies, as they run north and south, present less 
of a contrast between their two sides than do the northern and southern 
declivities of the Alps or the Caucasus. 

2 In the newer cities one set of parallel streets is named by numbers, the 
others, which cross them at right angles, are in some instances, as in New 



cnw. cxvi THE UNIFORMITY OF AMERICAN LIFE 819 

same plan, the same Chinese laundries, with Li Kow visible 
through the window, the same ice-cream stores, the same 
large hotels with seedy men hovering about in the cheerless 
entrance-hall, the same street cars passing to and fro with 
passengers clinging to the door-step, the same locomotives 
ringing their great bells as they clank slowly down the middle 
of the street. I admit that in external aspect there is a sad 
monotony in the larger towns of England also. Compare Eng- 
lish cities with Italian cities, and most of the former seem 
like one another, incapable of being, so to speak, individualized 
as you individualize a man with a definite character and aspect 
unlike that of other men. Take the Lancashire towns, for 
instance, large and prosperous places. You cannot individu- 
alize Bolton or Wigan, Oldham or Bury, except by trying to 
remember that Bury is slightly less rough than Oldham, and 
Wigan a thought more grimy than Bolton. But in Italy every 
city has its character, its memories, its life and achievements 
wrought into the pillars of its churches and the towers that 
stand along its ramparts. Siena is not like Perugia, nor 
Perugia like Orvieto ; Kavenna, Kimini, Pesaro, Fano, Ancona, 
Osimo, standing along the same coast within seventy miles of 
one another, have each of them a character, a sentiment, what 
one may call an idiosyncrasy, which comes vividly back to us 
at the mention of its name. Now, what English towns are. 
to Italian, that American towns are to English. They are in 
some ways pleasanter ; they are cleaner, there is less poverty, 
less squalor, less darkness. But their monotony haunts one 
like a nightmare. Even the irksomeness of finding the streets 
named by numbers becomes insufferable. It is doubtless con- 
venient to know by the number how far up the city the par- 
ticular street is. But you cannot give any sort of character 
to Twenty-ninth Street, for the name refuses to lend itself to 
any association. There is something wearisomely hard and 
bare in such a system. 

I return joyfully to the exceptions. Boston has a character 
of her own. with her beautiful Common, her smooth environ- 
ing waters, her Beacon Hill crowned by the gilded dome of the 

York, called avenues, and so numbered. In Washington the avenues are 
called after States, and of the two sets of streets (which the avenues cross 
obliquely), one is called by numbers, the other by the letters of the alphabet. 



820 SOCIAL INSTITUTIONS part vi 

State House, and Bunker Hill, bearing the monument of the 
famous fight. New York, besides a magnificent position, has 
in the grandeur of the buildings and the tremendous rush of 
men and vehicles along the streets as much the air of a great 
capital as London itself. Chicago, with her enormous size and 
the splendid warehouses that line her endless thoroughfares, 
now covered by a dense smoke pall, leaves a strong though not 
wholly agreeable impression. Richmond has a quaint old- 
world look which dwells in the memory ; few cities have a 
sea front equal in beauty to the lake front of Cleveland. Wash- 
ington, with its wide and beautifully graded avenues, and the 
glittering white of the stately Capitol, has become within the 
last twenty years a singularly handsome city. Charleston has 
the air of an English town of last century, though lapped in a 
far richer vegetation, and with the shining softness of summer 
seas spread out before it. And New Orleans — or rather the 
Creole quarter of New Orleans, for the rest of the city is com- 
monplace — is delicious, suggesting old France and Spain, yet 
a France and Spain strangely transmuted in this new clime. 
I have seen nothing in America more picturesque than the 
Rue Eoyale, with its houses of all heights, often built round 
a courtyard, where a magnolia or an orange-tree stands in the 
middle, and wooden external staircases lead up to wooden gal- 
.leries, the house fronts painted of all colours, and carrying 
double rows of balconies decorated with pretty ironwork, the 
whole standing languid and still in the warm soft air, and 
touched with the subtle fragrance of decay. Here in New 
Orleans the streets and public buildings, and specially the old 
City Hall, with the arms of Spain still upon it, speak of history. 
One feels, in stepping across Canal Street from the Creole 
quarter to the business parts of the town, that one steps from 
an old nationality to a new one, that this city must have had 
vicissitudes, that it represents something, and that something 
one of the great events of history, the surrender of the northern 
half of the New World by the Romano-Celtic races to the 
Teutonic. Quebec, and to a less degree Montreal, fifteen hun- 
dred miles away, tell the same tale ; Santa Fe in New Mexico 
repeats it. 

It is the absence in nearly all the American cities of anything 
that speaks of the past that makes their external aspect so un- 



chap, cm THE UNIFORMITY OF AMERICAN LIFE 821 

suggestive. In pacing their busy streets and admiring their 
handsome city halls and churches, one's heart, sinks at the feel- 
ing that nothing historically interesting ever has happened here, 

perhaps ever will happen. In many an English town, however 
ugly with its smoke and its new suburbs, one sees at least an 
ancient church, one can discover some fragments of a castle 
or a city wall. Even AVigan and Northampton have ancient 
churches, though Northampton lately allowed the North-west- 
ern Railway to destroy the last traces of the castle where 
Henry II. issued his Assize. But in America hardly any 
public building is associated with anything more interesting 
than a big party convention; and, nowadays, even the big 
conventions are held in temporary structures, whose materials 
are sold when the politicians have dispersed. Nowhere, per- 
haps, does this sense of the absolute novelty of all things 
strike one so strongly as in San Francisco. Few cities in the 
world can vie with her either in the beauty or in the natural 
advantages of her situation ; indeed, there are only three places 
in Europe — Constantinople, Corinth, and Gibraltar — that com- 
bine an equally perfect landscape with what may be called an 
equally imperial position. Before you there is the magnificent 
bay, with its far-stretching arms and rocky isles, and beyond it 
the faint line of the Sierra Nevada, cutting the clear air 
like mother-of-pearl ; behind there is the roll of the ocean ; to 
the left, the majestic gateway between mountains through 
which ships bear in commerce from the farthest shores of the 
Pacific ; to the right, valleys rich with corn and wine, sweep- 
ing away to the southern horizon. The city itself is full of 
bold hills, rising steeply from the deep water. The air is 
keen, dry, and bright, like the air of Greece, and the waters 
not less blue. Perhaps it is this air and light, recalling the 
cities of the Mediterranean, that make one involuntarily look 
up to the top of these hills for the feudal castle, or the ruins 
of the Acropolis, which one thinks must crown them. I found 
myself so looking all the time I remained in the city. But on 
none of these heights is there anything more interesting, any- 
thing more vocal to the student of the past, than the sumptu- 
ous villas of the magnates of the Central Pacific Railway, who 
have chosen a hill-top to display their wealth to the city, but 
have erected houses like all other houses, only larger. San 



822 SOCIAL INSTITUTIONS part vi 

Francisco has had a good deal of history in her fifty years of 
life ; bnt this history does not, like that of Greece or Italy, 
write itself in stone, or even in wood. 

Of the uniformity of political institutions over the whole 
United States I have spoken already. Everywhere the same 
system of State governments, everywhere the same municipal 
governments, and almost uniformly bad or good in proportion 
to the greater or smaller population of the city ; the same party 
machinery organized on the same methods, " run " by the same 
wirepullers and " workers." In rural local government there 
are some diversities in the names, areas, and functions of the 
different bodies, yet differences slight in comparison with the 
points of likeness. The schools are practically identical in 
organization, in the subjects taught, in the methods of teach- 
ing, though the administration of them is as completely de- 
centralized as can be imagined, even the State commissioner 
having no right to do more than suggest or report. So it is 
with the charitable institutions, with the libraries, the lecture- 
courses, the public amusements. All these are more abundant 
and better of their kind in the richer and more cultivated parts 
of the country, generally better in the North Atlantic than in 
the inland States, and in the West than in the South. But 
they are the same in type everywhere. It is the same with 
social habits and usages. There are still some differences 
between the South and the North ; and in the Eastern cities 
the upper class is more Europeanized in its code of etiquette 
and its ways of daily life. But even these variations tend to 
disappear. Eastern customs begin to permeate the West, be- 
ginning with the richer families ; the South is more like the 
North than it was before the war. Travel where you will, 
you feel that what you have found in one place that you will 
find in another. The thing which hath been, will be : you 
can no more escape from it than you can quit the land to live 
in the sea. 

Last of all we come to man himself — to man and to woman, 
not less important than man. The ideas of men and women, 
their fundamental beliefs and their superficial tastes, their 
methods of thinking and their fashions of talking, are what 
most concern their fellow-men; and if there be variety and 
freshness in these, the uniformity of nature and the monotony 



chap, cxvi THE UNIFORMITY OF AMERICAN LIFE 823 

of cities signify but little. If I observe that in these respects 
also the similarity of type over the country is surprising, I 
shall be asked whether I am not making the old mistake of the 
man who fancied all Chinese were like one another, because, 
noticing the dress and the pigtail, he did not notice minor 
differences of feature. A scholar is apt to think that all 
business men write the same hand, and a business man thinks 
the same of all scholars. Perhaps Americans think all Eng- 
lishmen alike. And I may also be asked with whom I am 
comparing the Americans. With Europe as a whole ? If 
so, is it not absurd to expect that the differences between 
different sections in one people should be as marked as those 
between different peoples ? The United States are larger than 
Europe, but Europe has many races and many languages, among 
whom contrasts far broader must be expected than between one 
people, even if it stretches over a continent. 

It is most clearly not with Europe, but with each of the 
leading European peoples that we must compare the people 
of America. So comparing them with the peoples of Britain, 
France, Germany, Italy, Spain, one discovers more varieties 
between individuals in these European peoples than one finds 
in America. Scotchmen and Irishmen are more unlike Eng- 
lishmen, the native of Normandy more unlike the native of 
Provence, the Pomeranian more unlike the Wurtemberger, the 
Piedmontese more unlike the Neapolitan, the Basque more 
unlike the Andalusian, than the American from any part of 
the country is to the American from any other. Differences 
of course there are between the human type as developed in 
different regions of the country, — differences moral and intel- 
lectual as well as physical. You can generally tell a South- 
erner by his look as well as by his speech, and the South, as a 
whole, has a character of its own, propagated from the older 
Atlantic to the newer Western States. A native of Maine 
will probably differ from a native of Kentucky, a Georgian 
from an Oregonian. But these differences strike even an 
American observer much as the difference between a York- 
shireman and a Warwickshire man strikes the English, and is 
slighter than the contrast between a middle-class southern Eng- 
lishman and a middle-class Scotchman, slighter than the differ- 
ences between a peasant from Northumberland and a peasant 



824 SOCIAL INSTITUTIONS 



from Dorsetshire. Or, to take another way of putting it : If at 
some great gathering of a political party from all parts of the 
United Kingdom you were to go round and talk to, say, one 
hundred, taken at random, of the persons present, you would be 
struck by more diversity between the notions and tastes and 
mental habits of the individuals comprising that one hundred 
than if you tried the same experiment with a hundred Ameri- 
cans of similar education and position, similarly gathered in a 
convention from every State in the Union. 

I do not in the least mean that people are more commonplace 
in America than in England, or that the Americans are less 
ideal than the English. Neither of these statements would 
be true. On the contrar}^, the average American is more alive 
to new ideas, more easily touched through his imagination or 
his emotions, than the average Englishman or Frenchman. He 
has a keen sense of humour, and an unquenchable faith in the 
future. I mean only that the native-born Americans appear to 
vary less, in fundamentals, from what may be called the domi- 
nant American type than Englishmen, Germans, Frenchmen, 
Spaniards, or Italians do from any type which could be taken as 
the dominant type in any of those nations. Or, to put the same 
thing differently, it is rather more difficult to take any assem- 
blage of attributes in any of these European countries and call it 
the national type than it is to do the like in the United States. 

These are not given as the impressions of a traveller. Such 
impressions, being necessarily hasty, and founded on a com- 
paratively narrow observation, would deserve little confidence. 
They sum up the conclusions of Europeans long resident in 
America, and familiar with different parts of the country. 
They are, I think, admitted by the most acute Americans 
themselves. I have often heard the latter dilate on what seems 
to them the one crowning merit of life in Europe — the variety 
it affords, the opportunities it gives of easy and complete changes 
of scene and environment. The pleasure which an American 
finds in crossing the Atlantic, a pleasure more intense than 
any which the European enjoys, is that of passing from a land 
of happy monotony into regions where everything is redolent 
with memories of the past, and derives from the past no less 
than from the present a wealth and a subtle complexity of 
interest which no new country can possess. 



obap.oxvi THE UNIFORMITY OF AMERICAN LIFE 826 

Life in America is in most ways pleasanter, easier, simpler 
than in Europe; it floats in a sense of happiness Like that of a 
radiant summer morning. But life in any of the great Euro- 
pean cent res is capable of an intensity, a richness blended of 
many elements, which has not yet been reached in America. 
There are more problems in Europe calling for solution; there 
is more passion in the struggles that rage round them; the 
past more frequently kindles the present with a glow of imagi- 
native light. In whichever country of Europe one dwells, 
one feels that the other countries are near, that the fortunes 
of their peoples are bound up with the fortunes of one's own, 
that ideas are shooting to and fro between them. The web of 
history woven day by day all over Europe is vast and of many 
colours : it is fateful to every European. But in America it is 
only the philosopher who can feel that it will ultimately be 
fateful to Americans also ; to the ordinary man the Old World 
seems far off, severed by a dissociating ocean, its mighty 
burden with little meaning for him. 

Those who have observed the uniformity I have been attempt- 
ing to describe have commonly set it down, as Europeans do 
most American phenomena, to what they call Democracy. 
Democratic government has in reality not much to do with it, 
except in so far as such a government helps to induce that 
deference of individuals to the mass which strengthens a 
dominant type, whether of ideas, of institutions, or of man- 
ners. More must be ascribed to the equality of material con- 
ditions, still more general than in Europe, to the fact that 
nearly every one is engaged either in agriculture, or in com- 
merce, or in some handicraft, to the extraordinary mobility of 
the population, which, in migrating from one part of the 
country to another, brings the characteristics of each part into 
the others, to the diffusion of education, to the cheapness of 
literature and universal habit of reading, which enable every 
one to know what every one else is thinking, but above all, 
to the newness of the country, and the fact that four-fifths of 
it have been made all at a stroke, and therefore all of a piece, 
as compared with the slow growth by which European coun- 
tries have developed. Newness is the cause of uniformity, not 
merely in the external aspect of cities, villages, farmhouses, 
but in other things also, for the institutions and social habits 



SOCIAL INSTITUTIONS 



which belonged a century ago to a group of small communities 
on the Atlantic coast, have been suddenly extended over an 
immense area, each band of settlers naturally seeking to retain 
its customs, and to plant in the new soil shoots from which 
trees like those of the old home might spring up. The variety 
of European countries is due, not only to the fact that their 
race-elements have not yet become thoroughly commingled, 
but also that many old institutions have survived among the 
new ones ; as in a city that grows but slowly, old buildings 
are not cleared away to make room for others more suited to 
modern commerce, but are allowed to stand, sometimes empty 
and unused, sometimes half adapted to new purposes. This 
scarcely happens in America. Doubtless many American 
institutions are old, and were old before they were carried 
across the Atlantic. But they have generally received a new 
dress, which, in adapting them to the needs of to-day, conceals 
their ancient character ; and the form in which they have been 
diffused or reproduced in the different States of the Union is 
in all those States practically identical. 

In each of the great European countries the diversity of 
primeval and mediaeval times, when endless varieties of race, 
speech, and faith existed within the space of a few hundred 
miles, has been more or less preserved by segregative influ- 
ences. In America a small race, of the same speech and faith, 
has spread itself out over a vast area, and has hitherto been 
strong enough to impose its own type, not only on the Dutch 
and other early settlers of the Middle States, but on the immi- 
grant masses who began to arrive in the middle of this century. 

There are now in America more Irish people, and children 
of Irish people, than there are in Ireland ; while large tracts 
in the country and some of the cities are in speech rather 
German than American, so much so that public documents 
are issued in both tongues. 1 Yet neither the Celtic nor the 
Teutonic incomers have substantially affected the national 
character and habits, though the latter may be credited with 
much of the growing taste for music and the drama, as well 

1 In the presidential contest of 1892 " campaign documents " were published 
by the Democratic National Committee in German, French, Italian, Swedish, 
Norse, Polish, Dutch, Welsh, and Hebrew; and newspapers were distributed 
printed in Czech, Hungarian, and Spanish. 



obap.cxvi THE IXIFOKMITY OF AMERICAN LIFE 827 

as with the progress of Latitudinarianism in religion, Whether 

the host o( i in migrants who have recently arrived, and in par- 
ticular, the backward races from Central Europe whom the 
t'teen years have brought, will be as easily absorbed, and 
whether they will, in the process, injure the absorbing organ- 
ism — these are questions which must remain unanswered for 
at least another generation. So far as our present data enable 
a prediction to be made, they point to the permanent predomi- 
nence of the native type, though possibly with some slight 
modifications. 

May one. then, expect that when novelty has worn off, and 
America counts her life by centuries instead of by decades, 
variety will develop itself, and such complexities, or diversi- 
ties, or incongruities (whichever one is to call them) as Euro- 
pean countries present, be deeper and more numerous ? 

As regards the outside of things, this seems unlikely. Many 
of the small towns of to-day will grow into large towns, a few 
of the large towns into great cities, but as they grow, they 
will not become less like one another. There will be larger 
theatres and hotels, more churches (in spite of secularist lect- 
urers) and handsomer ones ; but what is to make the theatres 
and churches of one city- differ from those of another ? Fashion 
and the immense facilities of intercourse tend to wear down 
even such diversities in the style of building or furnishing, 
or in modes of locomotion, or in amusements and forms of 
social intercourse, as now exist. 

As regards ideas and the inner life of men, the question is 
a more difficult one. At present there are only two parts of 
the country where one looks to meet with the well-marked 
individualities I refer to. One of these is New England, 
where the spirit of Puritanism, expressed in new literary 
forms by Emerson and his associates, did produce a peculiar 
type of thinking and discoursing, which has now, however, 
almost died out ; and where one still meets, especially among 
the cultivated classes, a larger number than elsewhere of 
persons who have thought and studied for themselves, and are 
unlike their fellows. 1 The other part of the country is the 

1 The old-fashioned Puritan farmer has, however, almost vanished from 
hen he went West, attracted hy the greater richness of the 
soil, Irishmen came in hi> p] 



828 SOCIAL INSTITUTIONS part vi 

Far West, where the wild life led by pioneers in exploration, 
or ranching, or gold-mining has produced a number of striking 
figures, men of extraordinary self-reliance, with a curious 
mixture of geniality and reckless hardihood, no less indiffer- 
ent to their own lives than to the lives of others. Of pre- 
serving this latter type there is, alas, little hope ; the swift 
march of civilization will have expunged it in thirty years 
more. 

When one sees millions of people thinking the same thoughts 
and reading the same books, and perceives that as the multi- 
tude grows, its influence becomes always stronger, it is hard 
to imagine how new points of repulsion and contrast are to 
arise, new diversities of sentiment and doctrine to be devel- 
oped. Nevertheless there is reason to believe that as the 
intellectual proficiency and speculative play of mind which 
are now confined to a comparatively small class become more 
generally diffused, as the pressure of effort towards material 
success is relaxed, as the number of men devoted to science, 
art, and learning increases, so will the dominance of what may 
be called the business mind decline, and with a richer variety 
of knowledge, tastes, and pursuits, there will come also a 
larger crop of marked individualities, and of divergent intel- 
lectual types. 

Time will take away some of the monotony which comes 
from the absence of historical associations : for even if, as is 
to be hoped, there comes no war to make battlefields famous 
like those of thirty years ago, yet literature and the lives of 
famous men cannot but attach to many spots associations to 
which the blue of distance will at last give a romantic inter- 
est. No people could be more ready than are the Americans 
to cherish such associations. Their country has a short past, 
but they willingly revere and preserve all the memories the 
past has bequeathed to them. 



CHAPTEK CXVII 

THE TEMPER OF THE WEST 

Western America is one of the most interesting subjects 
of study the modern world has seen. There has been nothing 
in the past resembling its growth, and probably there will be 
nothing in the future. A vast territory, wonderfully rich in 
natural resources of many kinds; a temperate and healthy 
climate, fit for European labour; a soil generally, and in many 
places marvellously, fertile; in some regions mountains full of 
minerals, in others trackless forests where every tree is over 
two hundred feet high; and the whole of this virtually unoccu- 
pied territory thrown open to an energetic race, with all the 
appliances and contrivances of modern science at its command, 
— these are phenomena absolutely without precedent in his- 
tory, and which cannot recur elsewhere, because our planet 
contains no such other favoured tract of country. 

The Spaniards and Portuguese settled in tropical countries, 
which soon enervated them. They carried with them the 
poison of slavery; their colonists were separated, some by 
long land journeys, and all by still longer voyages from the 
centres of civilization. But the railway and the telegraph 
follow the Western American. The Greeks of the sixth and 
seventh centuries before Christ, who planted themselves all 
round the coasts of the ^Mediterranean, had always enemies, 
and often powerful enemies, to overcome before they could 
found even their trading-stations on the coast, much less occupy 
the lands of the interior. In Western America the presence 
of the Indians has done no more than give a touch of romance 
or a spice of danger to the exploration of some regions, such as 
vrn Dakota and Arizona, while over the rest of the coun- 
try the unhappy aborigines have slunk silently away, scarcely 
even complaining of the robbery of lands and the violation of 

829 



830 SOCIAL INSTITUTIONS part ti 

plighted faith. Nature and time seem to have conspired to 
make the development of the Mississippi basin and the Pacific 
slope the swiftest, easiest, completest achievement in the whole 
record of the civilizing progress of mankind since the founder 
of the Egyptian monarchy gathered the tribes of the Nile under 
one government. 

The details of this development and the statistics that illus- 
trate it have been too often set forth to need re-statement 
here. It is of the character and temper of the men who have 
conducted it that I wish to speak, a matter which has received 
less attention, but is essential to a just conception of the 
Americans of to-day. For the West is the most American part 
of America; that is to say, the part where those features which 
distinguish America from Europe come out in the strongest 
relief. What Europe is to Asia, what England is to the rest 
of Europe, what America is to England, that the Western 
States and Territories are to the Atlantic States, the heat and 
pressure and hurry of life always growing as we follow the 
path of the sun. In Eastern America there are still quiet 
spots, in the valleys of the Alleghanies, for instance, in nooks 
of old New England, in university towns like Ithaca or Am 
Arbor. In the West there are none. All is bustle, motion, 
and struggle, most so of course among the native Americans, 
yet even the immigrant from the secluded valleys of Thuringia, 
or the shores of some Norwegian fjord, learns the ways almost 
as readily as the tongue of the country, and is soon swept into 
the whirlpool. 

It is the most enterprising and unsettled Americans that 
come West ; and when they have left their old haunts, broken 
their old ties, resigned the comforts and pleasures of their 
former homes, they are resolved to obtain the wealth and suc- 
cess for which they have come. They throw themselves into 
work with a feverish yet sustained intensity. They rise early, 
they work all day, they have few pleasures, few opportunities 
for relaxation. 1 I remember in the young city of Seattle on 
Puget Sound to have found business in full swing at seven 

1 In the newer towns, which are often nothing more than groups of shanties 
with a large hotel, a hank, a church, and inn, some drinking-saloons and gam- 
hling-houses, there are few women and no homes. Everybody, except recent 
immigrants, Chinese, and the very poorest native Americans, lives in the 
hotel. 



chat, cxvn THE TEMPER OF THE WEST 831 

o'clock a.m.: the shops open, the streets full of people. 
Everything is speculative, land (or, as it is usually called, "real 
estate n ) most so, the value of lots of ground rising or falling 
perhaps two or three hundred per cent in the year. No one 
has any fixed occupation; he is a storekeeper to-day, a ranch- 
man to-morrow, a miner next week. I found the waiters in 
the chief hotel at Denver, in Colorado, saving their autumn 
and winter wages to start off in the spring " prospecting " for 
silver " claims " in the mountains. Few men stay in one of 
the newer cities more than a few weeks or months; to have 
been there a whole year is to be an old inhabitant, an oracle if 
you have succeeded, a by-word if you have not, for to prosper 
in the West you must be able to turn your hand to anything, 
and seize the chance to-day which every one else will have 
seen to-morrow. This venturesome and shifting life strengthens 
the reckless and heedless habits of the people. Every one 
thinks so much of gaining that he thinks little of spending, 
and in the general dearness of commodities, food (in the agri- 
cultural districts) excepted, it seems not worth while to care 
about small sums. In California for many years no coin lower 
than a ten-cent piece (5d.) was in circulation; and even in 
1881, though most articles of food were abundant, nothing was 
sold at a lower price than five cents. The most striking alter- 
nations of fortune, the great coups which fascinate men and 
make them play for all or nothing, are of course commoner in 
mining regions than elsewhere. 1 But money is everywhere so 
valuable for the purposes of speculative investment, whether 
in land, live stock, or trade, as to fetch very high interest. 
At Walla Walla (in what was then the Territory of Washing- 
ton) I found in 1881 that the interest on debts secured on 
good safe mortgages was at the rate of fourteen per cent per 
annum, of course payable monthly. 

The carelessness is public as well as private. Tree stumps 
are left standing in the streets of a large and flourishing town 
like Leadville, because the municipal authorities cannot be at 
the trouble of cutting or burning them. Swamps are left 
undrained in the suburbs of a populous city like Portland, 

1 In California in 1881 I was shown an estate of 600,000 acres which was said 
to have been lately bought for >225,000 (£15,000) by a man who had made his 
fortune in two years' mining, having come out without a penny. 



832 SOCIAL INSTITUTIONS part vi 

which every autumn breed malarious fevers ; and the risk of 
accidents to be followed by actions does not prevent the rail- 
ways from pushing on their lines along loosely heaped embank- 
ments, and over curved trestle bridges which seem as if they 
could not stand a high wind or the passage of a heavy train. 

This mixture of science and rudeness is one of a series of 
singular contrasts which runs through the West, not less con- 
spicuous in the minds of the people than in their surroundings. 
They value good government, and have a remarkable faculty 
for organizing some kind of government, but they are tolerant 
of lawlessness which does not directly attack their own inter- 
est. Horse-stealing and insults to women are the two unpar- 
donable offences ; all others are often suffered to go unpunished. 
I was in a considerable Western city, with a population of 
70,000 people, some years ago, when the leading newspaper of 
the place, commenting on one of the train robberies that had 
been frequent in the State, observed that so long as the brigands 
had confined themselves to robbing the railway companies and 
the express companies of property for whose loss the companies 
must answer, no one had greatly cared, seeing that these com- 
panies themselves robbed the public; but now that private 
citizens seemed in danger of losing their personal baggage and 
money, the prosperity of the city might be compromised, and 
something ought to be done — a sentiment delivered with all 
gravity, as the rest of the article showed. 1 Brigandage tends 
to disappear when the country becomes populous, though there 
are places in comparatively old States like Illinois and Mis- 
souri where the railways are still unsafe. But the same 
heedlessness suffers other evils to take root, evils likely to 
prove permanent, including some refinements of political 
roguery which it is strange to find amid the simple life of 
forests and prairies. 

Another such contrast is presented by the tendency of this 
shrewd and educated people to relapse into the oldest and most 
childish forms of superstition. Fortune-telling, clairvoyance, 
attempts to pry by the help of " mediums " into the book of 
fate, are so common in parts of the West that the newspapers 

1 This makes plausible the story of the Texas judge who allowed murderers 
to escape on points of law till he found the value of real estate declining, when 
he saw to it that the next few offenders were hanged. 



chap, rxvii THE TEMPER OF THE WEST 888 

devote a Bpecia] column, headed "astrologers," to the adver- 
tisements of these wizards and pythonesses. 1 I have counted 
in one issue of a San Francisco newspaper as many as eighteen 
such advertisements, six of which were of simple fortune- 
tellers, like those who used to beguile the peasant girls of 
Devonshire. In fact, the profession of a soothsayer or astrol- 
is a recognized one in California now, as it was in the 
Greece of Homer. Possibly the prevalence of mining specu- 
lation, possibly the existence of a large mass of ignorant 
immigrants from Europe, may help to account for the phe- 
nomenon, which, as California is deemed an exceptionally 
uilreligious State, illustrates the famous saying that the less 
faith the more superstition. 

All the passionate eagerness, all the strenuous effort of the 
Westerns is directed towards the material development of the 
country. To open the greatest number of mines and extract 
the greatest quantity of ore, to scatter cattle over a thousand 
hills, to turn the flower-spangled prairies of the North-w T est 
into wheat-fields, to cover the sunny slopes of the South-west 
with vines and olives: this is the end and aim of their lives, 
this is their daily and nightly thought — 

" juvat Ismara Baccho 
Conserere atque olea magnum vestire Taburnum." 

The passion is so absorbing, and so covers the horizon of public 
as well as private life that it almost ceases to be selfish — it 
takes from its very vastness a tinge of ideality. To have an 
immense production of exchangeable commodities, to force 
from nature the most she can be made to yield, and send it east 
and west by the cheapest routes to the dearest markets, mak- 
ing one's city a centre of trade, and raising the price of its 
real estate — this, which might not have seemed a glorious 
consummation to Isaiah or Plato, is preached by Western 
newspapers as a kind of religion. It is not really, or at least 
it is not wholly, sordid. These people are intoxicated by the 
majestic scale of the nature in which their lot is cast, enormous 
mineral deposits, boundless prairies, forests which, even squan- 
dered — wickedly squandered — as they now are, will supply 

1 Ohio in 1883 imposed a licence tax of $300 a year on " astrologers, fortune- 
tellers, clairvoyants, palmisters, and seers." 

VOL. II 3 II 



834 SOCIAL INSTITUTIONS 



timber to the United States for centuries; a soil which, with 
the rudest cultivation, yields the most abundant crops, a popu- 
lous continent for their market. They see all round them rail- 
ways being built, telegraph wires laid, steamboat lines across 
the Pacific projected, cities springing up in the solitudes, and 
settlers making the wilderness to blossom like the rose. Their 
imagination revels in these sights and signs of progress, and 
they gild their own struggles for fortune with the belief that 
they are the missionaries of civilization and the instruments of 
Providence in the greatest work the world has seen. The fol- 
lowing extract from a newspaper published at Tacoma in Wash- 
ington (then a Territory) expresses with frank simplicity the 
conception of greatness and happiness which is uppermost 
in the Par West ; and what may seem a touch of conscious 
humour is, if humorous it be, none the less an expression of 
sincere conviction. 

WHY WE SHOULD BE HAPPY 

' ' Because we are practically at the head of navigation on Puget Sound. 
Tacoma is the place where all the surplus products of the south and of the 
east, that are exported by way of the Sound, must be laden on board the 
vessels that are to carry them to the four corners of the world. We should 
be happy because being at the head of navigation on Puget Sound, and 
the shipping point for the south and east, the centre from which shall 
radiate lines of commerce to every point on the circumference of the earth, 
we are also nearer by many miles than any other town on Puget Sound 
to that pass in the Cascade mountains through which the Cascade division 
of the Northern Pacific railroad will be built in the near future ; not only 
nearer to the Stampede pass, but easily accessible from there by a railroad 
line of gentle grade, which is more than can be said of any town to the 
north of us. 

" We should be happy for these reasons and because we are connected 
by rail with Portland on the Willamette, with St. Paul, Chicago, and New 
York ; because being thus connected we are in daily communication with 
the social, political, and financial centres of the western hemisphere ; be- 
cause all the people of the south and of the east who visit these shores 
must first visit New Tacoma ; because from here will be distributed to the 
people of the north-west all that shall be brought across the continent on 
the cars, and from here shall be distributed to merchants all over the 
United States the cargoes of ships returning here from every foreign port 
to load with wheat, coal, and lumber. We should be and we are happy 
because New Tacoma is the Pacific coast terminus of a transcontinental 
line of railroad. Because this is the only place on the whole Pacific coast 



chap, cxvii THE TEMPEB OF THE WEST 835 

north of San Francisco where through freight from New York can be loaded 
on ship directly from the cars in which it came from the Atlantic side. 

''Other reasons why we should be happy are, that New Tacoma is in 
the centre of a country where fruits and flowers, vegetables and grain, 
grow in almost endless variety ; that we are surrounded with everything 
beautiful in nature, that we have scenery suited to every mood, and that 
there are opportunities here for the fullest development of talents of every 
kind. We have youth, good health, and opportunity. What more could 
be asked?" 

If happiness is thus procurable, the Great West ought to be 
happy. 1 But there is often a malignant influence at work to 
destroy happiness in the shape of a neighbouring city, which 
is making progress as swift or swifter, and threatens to eclipse 
its competitors. The rivalry between these Western towns is 
intense and extends to everything. It is sometimes dignified 
by an unselfish devotion to the greatness of the city which a 
man has seen grow with its own growth from infancy to a 
vigorous manhood. I have known citizens of Chicago as proud 
of Chicago as a Londoner, in the days of Elizabeth, was proud 
of London. They show you the splendid parks and handsome 
avenues with as much pleasure as a European noble shows his 
castle and his pictures : they think little of offering hundreds 
of thousands of dollars to beautify the city or enrich it with 
a library or an art gallery. In other men this laudable cor- 
porate pride is stimulated, not only by the love of competition 
which lies deep in the American as it does in the English 
breast, but also by personal interest, for the prosperity of the 
individual is inseparable from that of the town. As its for- 
tunes rise or fall, so will his corner lots or the profits of his 
store. It is not all towns that succeed. Some after reaching 
a certain point stand still, receiving few accessions ; at other 
times, after a year or two of bloom, a town wilts and withers ; 
trade declines; enterprising citizens depart, leaving only the 
shiftless and impecunious behind; the saloons are closed, the 
shanties fall to ruin, in a few years nothing but heaps of straw 
and broken wood, with a few brick houses awaiting the next 

1 Tacoma has one glory which the inhabitants, it is to be feared, value less 
than those dwelt on in the article : it commands the finest view of a mountain 
on the Pacific coast, perhaps in all North America, looking across its calm inlet 
to the magnificent snowy mass of .Mount Tacoma (14,700 feet) rising out of 
deep dark forests thirty miles away. 



836 SOCIAL INSTITUTIONS part vi 

blizzard to overthrow them, are left on the surface of the 
prairie. Thus Taconia is harassed by the pretensions of the 
even more eager and enterprising Seattle; thus the greater 
cities of St.- Paul and Minneapolis have striven for the last 
twenty years for the title of Capital of the North-west. In 1870 
St. Paul was already a substantial city, and Minneapolis just 
beginning to be known as the possessor of immense water 
advantages from its position on the Mississippi at the Falls of 
St. Anthony. Now, though St. Paul contains some 135,000 
inhabitants, Minneapolis with 165,000 has distanced her in 
the race, and has become, having in the process destroyed the 
beauty of her Falls, the greatest flour-milling centre in Amer- 
ica. The newspapers of each of such competing cities keep up 
a constant war upon the other; and everything is done by 
municipal bodies and individual citizens to make the world 
believe that their city is advancing and all its neighbours 
standing still. Prosperity is largely a matter of advertising, 
for an afflux of settlers makes prosperity, and advertising, 
which can take many forms, attracts settlers. Many a place 
has lived upon its " boom " until it found something more solid 
to live on; and to a stranger who asked in a small Far Wes- 
tern town how such a city could keep up four newspapers, it 
was well answered that it took four newspapers to keep up 
such a city. 

Confidence goes a long way towards success. And the confi- 
dence of these Westerns is superb. I happened in 1883 to be 
at the city of Bismarck in Dakota when this young settlement 
was laying the corner-stone of its Capitol, intended to contain 
the halls of the legislature and other State offices of Dakota 
when that flourishing Territory should have become a State, or 
perhaps, for they spoke even then of dividing it, two States. 
The town was then only some five years old, and may have 
had six or seven thousand inhabitants. It was gaily decorated 
for the occasion, and had collected many distinguished guests 
— General U. S. Grant, several governors of neighbouring 
States and Territories, railroad potentates, and others. By 
far the most remarkable figure was that of Sitting Bull, the 
famous Sioux chief, who had surprised and slain a detachment 
of the American army some years before. Among the speeches 
made, in one of which it was proved that as Bismarck was the 



chap, oxvil THE TEMPER OF THE WEST 837 

centre of Dakota, Dakota the centre of the United States, and 
the United States the centre of the world, Bismarck was 
destined to " be the metropolitan hearth of the world's civili- 
zation," there came a short but pithy discourse from this grim 
old warrior, in which he told us, through an interpreter, that 
the Great Spirit moved him to shake hands with everybody. 
However, the feature of the ceremonial which struck us Euro- 
peans most was the spot chosen for the Capitol. It was not in 
the city, nor even on the skirts of the city ; it was nearly a 
mile oft', on the top of a hill in the brown and dusty prairie. 
''Why here?" we asked. "Is it because you mean to enclose 
the building in a public park?" "By no means; the Capitol 
is intended to be in the centre of the city ; it is in this direc- 
tion that the city is to grow." It is the same everywhere 
from the Mississippi to the Pacific. Men seem to live in the 
future rather than in the present: not that they fail to work 
while it is called to-day, but that they see the country not 
merely as it is, but as it will be, twenty, fifty, a hundred years 
hence, when the seedlings shall have grown to forest trees. 

This constant reaching forward to and grasping at the future 
does not so much express itself in words, for they are not a 
loquacious people, as in the air of ceaseless haste and stress 
which pervades the West. 1 They remind you of the crowd 
which Vathek found in the hall of Eblis, each darting hither 
and thither with swift steps and unquiet mien, driven to and 
fro by a fire in the heart. Time seems too short for what they 
have to do, and result always to come short of their desire. 
One feels as if caught and whirled along in a foaming stream, 
chafing against its banks, such is the passion of these men 
to accomplish in their own life-times what in the past it 
took centuries to effect. Sometimes in a moment of pause, for 
even the visitor finds himself infected by the all-pervading 
eagerness, one is inclined to ask them : " Gentlemen, why in 
heaven's name this haste? You have time enough. No enemy 
threatens you. No volcano will rise from beneath you. Ages 
and ages lie before you. Why sacrifice the present to the 
future, fancying that you will be happier when your fields 

1 In the West men usually drop off the cars before they have stopped, and 
do not enter them again till they are already in motion, hanging on like bees 
to the end of the tail car as it quits the depot. 



SOCIAL INSTITUTIONS 



teem with wealth and your cities with people? In Europe we 
have cities wealthier and more populous than j^ours, and we 
are not happy. You dream of your posterity; but your pos- 
terity will look back to yours as the golden age, and envy those 
who first burst into this silent splendid nature, who first lifted 
up their axes upon these tall trees and lined these waters with 
busy wharves. Why, then, seek to complete in a few decades 
what the other nations of the world took thousands of years 
over in the older continents? Why do things rudely and ill 
which need to be done well, seeing that the welfare of your 
descendants may turn upon them? Why, in your hurry to 
subdue and utilize nature, squander her splendid gifts? Why 
allow the noxious weeds of Eastern politics to take root in 
your new soil, when by a little effort you might keep it pure? 
Why hasten the advent of that threatening day when the vacant 
spaces of the continent shall all have been filled, and the 
poverty or discontent of the older States shall find no outlet? 
You have opportunities such as mankind has never had before, 
and may never have again. Your work is great and noble : it 
is done for a future longer and vaster than our conceptions can 
embrace. Why not make its outlines and beginnings worthy 
of these destinies the thought of which gilds your hopes and 
elevates your purposes?" 

Being once suddenly called upon to " offer a few remarks " 
to a Western legislature, and having on the spur of the moment 
nothing better to offer, I tendered some such observations as 
these, seasoned, of course, with the compliments to the soil, 
climate, and "location" reasonably expected from a visitor. 
They were received in good part, as indeed no people can be 
more kindly than the Western Americans; but it was surpris- 
ing to hear several members who afterwards conversed with 
me remark that the political point of view — the fact that they 
were the founders of new commonwealths, and responsible to 
posterity for the foundations they laid, a point of view so trite 
and obvious to a European visitor that he pauses before express- 
ing it — had not crossed their minds. If they spoke truly — 
as no doubt they did — ■ there was in their words a further 
evidence of the predominance of material efforts and interests 
over all others, even over those political instincts which are 
deemed so essential a part of the American character. The 



chap, cxvii THE TEMPER OK THE WEST 839 

arrangements of his government lie in the dun background of 
the picture which fills the Western eye. In the foreground lie 
sees ploughs and sawmills, ore-crushers and railway locomo- 
tives. These so absorb his thoughts as to leave little time for 
constitutions and legislation; and when constitutions and legis- 
lation are thought of, it is as means for better securing the 
be ne tits of the earth and of trade to the producer, and prevent- 
ing the greedy corporation from intercepting their fruits. 

Politically, and perhaps socially also, this haste and excite- 
ment, this absorption in the development of the material 
resources of the country, are unfortunate. As a town built in 
a hurry is seldom well built, so a society will be the sounder in 
health for not having grown too swiftly. Doubtless much of 
the scum will be cleared away from the surface when the liquid 
settles and cools down. Lawlessness and lynch law will dis- 
appear; saloons and gambling-houses will not prosper in a 
well-conducted population ; schools will improve and universi- 
ties grow out of the raw colleges which one already finds even 
in the newer Territories. Nevertheless the bad habits of pro- 
fessional politics, as one sees them on the Atlantic coast, are 
not unknown in these communities; and the unrestfulness, the 
passion for speculation, the feverish eagerness for quick and 
showy results, may so soak into the texture of the popular 
mind as to colour it for centuries to come. These are the 
shadows which to the eye of the traveller seem to fall across 
the glowing landscape of the Great West. 



CHAPTEK CXVIII 

THE FUTURE OF POLITICAL INSTITUTIONS 

The task of forecasting the future is one from which a 
writer does well to turn away, for the coasts of history are 
strewn with the wrecks of predictions launched by historians 
and philosophers. No such ambitious task shall be essayed 
by rue. But as I have described the institutions of the Ameri- 
can commonwealth as they stand at this moment, seldom ex- 
pressing an opinion as to their vitality or the influences which 
are at work to modify them, I may reasonably be asked to 
state, before bringing this book to a close, what processes of 
change these institutions seem to be at this moment undergoing. 
Changes move faster in our age than they ever moved before, 
and America is a land of change. No one doubts that fifty 
years hence it will differ at least as much from what it is now 
as it differs now from the America which Tocqueville described. 
The causes whose action will mould it are too numerous, 
too complex, to subtly interwoven to make it possible to con- 
jecture their joint result. All we can ever say of the future 
is that it will be unlike the present. I will therefore attempt, 
not to predict future changes, but only to indicate some of the 
processes of change now in progress which have gone far 
enough to let us see that they are due to causes of unmistak- 
able potency, causes likely to continue in activity for some 
time to come. 

I begin with a glance at the Federal system, whose equilib- 
rium it has been the main object of the Federal Constitution 
to preserve. That equilibrium has been little disturbed. So 
far as law goes, it has suffered no change since the amend- 
ments to the Constitution which recorded and formulated the 
results of the Civil War. Before the war many Americans 
and most Europeans expected a dissolution of the Union, 

840 



chap, cxvm FUTURE OF POLITICAL INSTITUTIONS 841 



either by such a loosening of the Federal tie as would reduce 
the Union to a mere league, or by the formation of several 
State groups wholly independent of one another. At this 
moment, however, nothing seems less likely than another 
secession. The States' Rights spirit has declined. The 
material interests of every part of the country are bound up 
with those of every other. The capital of the Eastern cities 
has been invested in mines in the West, in ironworks and 
manufactories in the South, in mortgages and railroads every- 
where. The South and the West need this capital for their 
development, and are daily in closer business relations with 
the East. The produce of the West finds its way to the 
Atlantic through the ports of the East. Every produce 
market, every share market, vibrates in response to the Prod- 
uce Exchange and Stock Exchange of New York. Each Part 
of the country has come to know the other parts far better 
than was possible in earlier times; and the habit of taking 
journeys hither and thither grows with the always-growing 
facilities of travel. Many families have sons or brothers in 
remote States; many students come from the West and the 
South to Eastern universities, and form ties of close friend- 
ship there. Kailways and telegraphs are daily narrowing and 
compressing the vast area between ocean and ocean. As the 
civilized world was a larger world in the days of Herodotus 
than it is now, — for it took twice as many months to travel 
from the Caspian Sea to the Pillars of Hercules as it takes 
now to circumnavigate the globe; one was obliged to use a 
greater number of languages, and the journey was incompara- 
bly more dangerous, — so now the United States, with their 
sixty-six millions of people, extending from the Bay of Fundy 
to the Gulf of California, are a smaller country for all the 
purposes of government, of commerce, and of social inter- 
course, than they were before the cession of Louisiana in 1803, 
for it took longer then to go from Boston to Charleston than 
it takes now to go from Portland in Maine to Portland in 
Oregon, and the journey was far more costly and difficult. 

Even the Pacific States, which might have seemed likely to 
form a community by themselves, are being drawn closer to 
those of the Mississippi basin. Population will in time be- 
come almost continuous along the lines of the Northern and 



812 SOCIAL INSTITUTIONS part vi 

Southern Pacific Railways, and though the deserts of Nevada 
may remain unreclaimed, prosperous communities round the 
Great Salt Lake will form a link between California and the 
Rocky Mountain States. With more frequent communication, 
local peculiarities and local habits of thought diminish; the 
South grows every day less distinctively Southern, and country- 
folk are more influenced by city ideas. There is now not a 
single State with any material interest that would be benefited, 
probably none with any sentiment that would be gratified, by 
separation from the body of the Union. No great question 
has arisen tending to bind States into groups and stimulating 
them to joint action. The chief problems which lie before 
the country wear an aspect substantially the same in its vari- 
ous sections, and public opinion is divided on them in those 
sections upon lines generally similar. In a word, the fact 
that the government is a Federal one does not at this moment 
seem to make any difference to the cohesion of the body politic; 
the United States are no more likely to dissolve than if they 
were a unified republic like France or a unified monarchy like 
Italy. 

As secession is improbable, so also is the extinction of the 
several States by absorption into the central government. It 
was generally believed in Europe, when the North triumphed 
over secession in 1865, that the Federal system was virtually 
at an end. The legal authority of Congress and the President 
had been immensely developed during the struggle ; a power- 
ful army, flushed with victory, stood ready to enforce that 
authority; and there seemed reason to think that the South, 
which had fought so stubbornly, would have to be kept down 
during many years by military force. However, none of these 
apprehended results followed. The authority of the central 
government presently sank back Avithin its former limits, 
some of the legislation based on the constitutional amendments 
which had extended it for certain purposes being cut down by 
judicial decision. The army was disbanded; self-government 
was soon restored in the lately insurgent States, and the 
upshot of the years of civil war and reconstruction has been, 
while extinguishing the claim of State sovereignty, to replace 
the formerly admitted State rights upon a legal basis as firm 
as they ever occupied before. At this moment State rights 



CHAP, l \\ 111 



FUTURE OF POLITICAL INSTITUTIONS 843 



are not in question, nor has either party an interest in advocat- 
ing the supersession of State action in any department of gov- 
ernment. The conservatism of habit and well-settled legal 
doctrine which would resist any such proposal is very strong. 
State autonomy, as well as local government within each State, 
is prized by every class in the community, and bound up with 
the personal interest of those who feel that these comparatively 
limited spheres offer a scope to their ambition which a wider 
theatre might deny. 

It is nevertheless impossible to ignore the growing strength 
of the centripetal and unifying forces. I have already referred 
to the influence of easier and cheaper communications, of com- 
merce and finance, of the telegraph, of the filling up of the 
intermediate vacant spaces in the West. There is an increas- 
ing tendency to invoke congressional legislation to deal with 
matters, such as railroads, which cannot be adequately handled 
by State laws, or to remove divergencies, such as those in 
bankrupt laws and the law of marriage and divorce, which 
give rise to practical inconveniences. Those who advocate the 
prohibition of the sale of intoxicants are more and more apt 
to carry their action into the Federal sphere, while admitting 
that the Federal Constitution would need amendment in order 
to enable Congress to effect what they desire. So the various 
parties which profess to champion the interests of the farmers 
or of workingmen recur to the Federal government as the only 
agency strong enough and wide-reaching enough to give effect 
to their proposals, most of which indeed would obviously be 
impracticable if tried in the narrow area of one or a few States. 
State patriotism, State rivalry, State vanity, are no doubt 
still conspicuous, yet the political interest felt in State govern- 
ments is slighter than it was forty years ago, while national 
patriotism has become warmer and more pervasive. The role 
of the State is socially and morally, if not legally, smaller 
now than it then was, and ambitious men look on a State leg- 
islature as little more than a stepping-stone to Congress. 
Moreover, the interference of the Federal Executive to sup- 
press by military power disorders which State authorities have 
seemed unable or unwilling to deal with has recently shown 
how great a reserve of force lies in its hands, and has led 
peace-loving citizens to look to it as their ultimate resort in 



844 SOCIAL INSTITUTIONS fart vi 

troublous times. It would be rash to assert that disjunctive 
forces will never again reveal themselves, setting the States 
against the National government, and making States' Eights 
once more a matter of practical controversy. But any such 
force is likely, so far as we can now see, to prove transitory, 
whereas the centripetal forces are permanent and secular 
forces, working from age to age. Wherever in the modern 
world there has been a centrifugal movement, tending to break 
up a State united under one government, or to loosen the cohe- 
sion of its parts, the movement has sprung from a sentiment 
of nationality, and has been reinforced, in almost every case, 
by a sense of some substantial grievance or by a belief that 
material advantages were to be secured by separation. The 
cases of Holland and Belgium, of Hungary and Germanic 
Austria, of the Greeks and Bulgarians in their struggle with 
the Turks, of Iceland in her struggle with Denmark, all illus- 
trate this proposition. When such disjunctive forces are 
absent, the more normal tendency to aggregation and centrali- 
zation prevails. In the United States all the elements of a 
national feeling are present, race, 1 language, literature, pride 
in past achievements, uniformity of political habits and 
ideas; and this national feeling which unities the people is 
reinforced by an immensely strong material interest in the 
maintenance of a single government over the breadth of the 
continent. It may therefore be concluded that while there 
is no present likelihood of change from a Federal to a consoli- 
dated republic, and while the existing legal rights and func- 
tions of the several States may remain undiminished for many 
years to come, the importance of the States will decline as the 
majesty and authority of the National government increase. 

The next question to be asked relates to the component 
parts of the National government itself. Its equilibrium 

1 The immense influx of immigrants has not greatly affected the sense of race 
unity, for the immigrant's child is almost always eager to become to all intents 
and purposes an American. Moreover, the immigrants are so dispersed over 
the country that no single section of them is in any State nearly equal to the 
native population. However, here and there in the West, Germans have tried 
to appropriate townships or villages, and keep English-speaking folk at a dis- 
tance ; and in Wisconsin their demand to have German taught regularly in the 
schools lately gave rise to some bitterness. But the very fact that the feeling 
of racial distinction produces no results more serious than these shows how 
far that feeling is from being a source of political danger. 



OHAP. OXVii] FUTURE OF POLITICAL INSTITUTIONS 845 

stands now as stable as at any former epoch. Yet it has twice 
experienced violent oscillations. In the days of Jackson, and 
again in those of Lincoln, the Executive seemed to outweigh 
Congress. In the days of Tyler, Congress threatened the 
Executive, while in those of Andrew Johnson it reduced the 
Executive to impotence. That no permanent disturbance of 
the balance followed the latter of these oscillations shows how 
well the balance had been adjusted at starting. At this mo- 
ment there is nothing to show that any one department is 
gaining on any other. The Judiciary, if indeed the judges 
can be called a political department, would seem to have less 
discretionary power than seventy years ago, for by their own 
decisions they have narrowed the scope of their discretion, 
determining points in which, had they remained open, the 
personal impulses and views of the Bench might have had 
room to play. Congress has been the branch of government 
with the largest facilities for usurping the powers of the 
other branches, and probably with the most disposition to do 
so. Congress has constantly tried to encroach both on the 
Executive and on the States, sometimes, like a wild bull driven 
into a corral, dashing itself against the imprisoning walls of 
the Constitution. But although Congress has succeeded in 
occupying nearly all of the area which the Constitution left 
vacant and unallotted between the several authorities it estab- 
lished, Congress has not become any more distinctly than in 
earlier days the dominant power in the State, the organ of 
national sovereignty, the irresistible exponent of the national 
will. In a country ruled by public opinion, it could hold this 
position only in virtue of its capacity for leading opinion, that 
is to say, of its courage, promptitude, and wisdom. Since it 
grows in no one of these qualities, it wins no greater ascen- 
dency; indeed its power, as compared with that of public 
opinion, seems rather to decline. Its division into two co- 
ordinate Houses is no doubt a source of weakness as well as 
of safety. Yet what is true of Congress as a whole is true of 
each House taken separately. The Senate, to which the emi- 
nence of many individual senators formerly gave a moral 
ascendency, has lost as much in the intellectual authority of 
its members as it has gained in their wealth. The House, with 
its far greater numbers and its far greater proportion of inex- 



846 SOCIAL INSTITUTIONS part vi 

perienced members, suffers from the want of internal organi- 
zation, and seems unable to keep pace with, the increasing 
demands made on it for constructive legislation. Now and 
then the helplessness of the House when a party majority 
happens to be torn by internal dissensions, or the selfishness 
of the Senate when in its almost equally divided body the 
interests or animosities of individual senators have full room 
to play, causes delays and leads to compromises or half meas- 
ures which exasperate even this all too patient people. One 
is sometimes inclined to think that Congress might lose its 
hold on the esteem and confidence of the nation, and sink into 
a subordinate position, were there any other authority which 
could be substituted for it. There is, however, no such 
authority, for law-making cannot be given to a person or to 
a court, while the State legislatures have the same faults as 
Congress in a greater degree. We may accordingly surmise 
that Congress will retain its present place; but so far as can 
be gathered from present phenomena, it will retain this place 
in respect not of the satisfaction of the people with its ser- 
vices, but of their inability to provide a better servant. 

The weakness of Congress is the strength of the President. 
Though it cannot be said that his office has risen in power or 
dignity since 1789, there are reasons for believing that it may 
reach a higher point than it has occupied at any time since 
the Civil War. The tendency everywhere in America to con- 
centrate power and responsibility in one man is unmistakable. 
Siere is no danger that the President should become a despot, 
at is, should attempt to make his will prevail against the 
will of the majority. But he may have a great part to play 
as the leader of the majority and the exponent of its will. He 
is in some respects better fitted both to represent and to influ- 
ence public opinion than Congress is. jSTo doubt he suffers 
from being the nominee of a party, because this draws on 
every act he does the hostility of zealots of the opposite party. 
But the number of voters who are not party zealots increases, 
increases from bad causes as well as from good causes ; for as 
a capable President sways the dispassionately patriotic, so a 
crafty President can find means of pla} T ing upon those who 
have their own ends to serve. A vigorous personality attracts 
the multitude, and attracts it the more the huger it grows 



ohap.cxyii] FUTURE OF POLITICAL INSTITUTIONS 847 

and the more the characteristic weaknesses of Congress stand 
revealed; while a chief magistrate's influence, though his 
political opponents may complain of it, excites little alarm 
when exerted in leading a majority which acts through the 
constitutional organs of government. There may therefore be 
still undeveloped possibilities of greatness in store for the 
Presidents of the future. But as these possibilities depend, 
like the possibilities of the British and German Crowns, per- 
haps one may add of the Papacy, on the wholly unpredictable 
element of personal capacity in the men who may fill the office, 
we need speculate on them no further. 

From the organs of government I pass to the party system, 
its machinery and its methods. Nothing in recent history sug- 
gests that the statesmen who claim to be party leaders, or the 
politicians who act as party managers, are disposed either to 
loosen the grip with which their organization has clasped the 
country, or to improve the methods it employs. Changes in 
party measures there will of course be in the future, as there 
have been in the past; but the professionals are not the men 
to make them changes for the better. The Machine will not 
be reformed from within: it must be assailed from without. 
Two heavy blows have been lately struck at it. The first was 
the Civil Service Reform Act of 1883. If this Act is honestly 
administered, and its principle extended to other Federal of- 
fices, if States and cities follow, as a few have done, in the 
wake of the National government, the Spoils System may 
before long be rooted out, and with that system the power of 
the Machine will crumble. The Spoils System has stood for 
some sixty years, and the bad habits it has formed cannot at 
once be unlearned. But its extinction will deprive professionals 
of their chief present motive for following politics. The tares 
which now infest the wheat will presently wither away, and 
the old enemy will have to sow a fresh crop of some other 
kind. The second blow has been the passing, in all the States 
but seven, of secret ballot laws, which have reduced the power 
of Machines and tended to make elections purer. And the 
third is the frequent appearance, not merely in Federal elec- 
tions, but in State and municipal elections, of a body of inde- 
pendent men pledged to vote for honest candidates irrespective 
of party. The absence for a number of years past of genuine 



848 SOCIAL INSTITUTIONS part vi 

political issues dividing the two parties, which has worked ill 
in taking moral and intellectual life out of the parties, and 
making their contests mere scrambles for office, has at last 
worked well in disposing intelligent citizens to sit more loose 
to party ties, and to consider, since it is really on men rather 
than on measures that they are required to vote, what the 
personal merits of candidates are. Forty years ago, just at 
the time when the fruits of Jacksonism, that is to say, of wild 
.democratic theory coupled with sordid and quite undemocratic 
practice, had begun to be fe]t by thoughtful persons, the 
urgency of the slavery question compelled the postponement of 
reforms in political methods, and made patriotic men fling 
themselves into party warfare with unquestioning zeal. When 
the winning of elections, no less than the winning of battles, 
meant the salvation of the Union, no one could stop to examine 
the machinery of party. For ten years after the Avar, the party 
which was usually in the majority in the North was the party 
which had saved the Union, and on that score commanded the 
devotion of its old adherents ; while the opposite party was so 
much absorbed in struggling back to power that it did not 
think of mending its ways. During the last fifteen or twenty 
years, the war issues being practically settled, public-spirited 
citizens have addressed themselves to the task, which ought to 
have been undertaken in 1850, of purifying politics. Their 
efforts began with city government, where the evils were 
greatest, but have now become scarcely less assiduous in State 
and national politics. 

Will these efforts continue, and be crowned by a growing 
measure of success? 

To a stranger revisiting America at intervals, the progress 
seems to be steadily though very slowly upward. This is also 
the belief of those Americans who, having most exerted them- 
selves in the struggle against Bosses and spoilsmen, have had 
most misrepresentation to overcome and most disappointments 
to endure. The Presidents of this generation are abler men 
than those of forty years ago, and less apt to be the mere 
creatures of a knot of party managers. The poisonous influ- 
ence of slavery is no longer felt. There is every day less of 
sentimentalism, but not less of earnestness in political dis- 
cussions. There is less blind obedience to party, less clisposi- 



cn.vr. cxvin FUTURE OF POLITICAL INSTITUTIONS 849 

tion to palliate sins committed from party motives. The 
number of able men who occupy themselves with scientific 
economics and politics is larger, their books and articles are 
more widely read. The press more frequently helps in the 
work of reform : the pulpit deals more largely with questions 
of practical philanthropy and public morals. That it should 
be taken as a good sign when the young men of a city throw 
themselves into politics, shows that the new generation is 
believed to have either a higher sense of public duty or a less 
slavish attachment to party ties than that whose votes have 
prevailed for the last twenty years. Above all, the nation is 
less self-sufficient and self-satisfied than it was in days when it 
had less to be proud of. Fifty years ago the Americans walked 
in a vain conceit of their own greatness and freedom and 
scorned instruction from the effete monarchies of the Old 
World, which repaid them with contemptuous indifference. 
Xo despot ever exacted more flattery from his courtiers than 
they from their statesmen. Now when Europe admires their 
power, envies their wealth, looks to them for instruction in not 
a few subjects, they have become more modest, and listen 
willingly to speakers and writers who descant upon their fail- 
ings. They feel themselves strong enough to acknowledge 
their weaknesses, and are anxious that the moral life of the 
nation should be worthy of its expanding fortunes. As these 
happy omens have become more visible from year to year, there 
is a reasonable presumption that they represent a steady cur- 
rent which will continue to work for good. To judge of 
America rightly the observer must not fix his eye simply upon 
her present condition, seeking to strike a balance between the 
evil and the good that now appear. He must look back at 
what the best citizens and the most judicious strangers per- 
ceived and recorded fifty, thirty, twenty years ago, and ask 
whether the shadows these men saw were not darker than those 
of to-day, whether the forecasts of evil they were forced to 
form have not in many cases been belied by the event. Tocque- 
ville was a sympathetic as well as penetrating observer. Many 
of the evils he saw, and which he thought inherent and incur- 
able, have now all but vanished. Other evils have indeed 
revealed themselves which he did not discern, but these may 
prove as transient as those with which he affrighted European 

VOL. II 3 1 



850 SOCIAL INSTITUTIONS part vi 

readers in 1834. The men I have met in America, whose 
recollections went back to the fonrth decade of this century, 
agreed in saying that there was in those days a more violent 
and unscrupulous party spirit, a smaller respect for law, a 
greater disposition to violence, less respect for the opinion of 
the wise, a completer submission to the prejudices of the 
masses, than there is to-day. Neither the Irish nor the Ger- 
mans had arrived upon the scene, but New York was already 
given over to spoilsmen. Great corporations had scarcely 
arisen; yet corruption was neither uncommon nor fatal to a 
politician's reputation. A retrospect which shows us that 
some evils have declined or vanished while the regenerative 
forces are more numerous and more active in combating new 
mischiefs than they ever were before, encourages the belief 
that the general stream of tendency is towards improvement, 
and will in time bring the public life of the country nearer to 
the ideal which democracy is bound to set before itself. 

When the Americans say, as they often do, that they trust 
to time, they mean that they trust to reason, to the generally 
sound moral tone of the multitude, to a shrewdness which after 
failures and through experiments learns what is the true inter- 
est of the majority, and finds that this interest coincides with 
the teachings of morality. They can afford to wait, because 
they have three great advantages over Europe, an absence of 
class distinctions and class hatred, a diffusion of wealth among 
an immense number of small proprietors all interested in the 
defence of property, an exemption from chronic pauperism and 
economical distress, work being at most times abundant, many 
careers open, the still unoccupied or undeveloped West pro- 
viding a safety valve available in times of depression. With 
these advantages the Americans conceive that were their coun- 
try now left entirely to itself, so that full and free scope could 
be secured to the ameliorative forces, political progress would 
be sure and steady; the best elements would come to the top, 
and when the dregs had settled the liquor would run clear. 

In a previous chapter I have observed that this sanguine 
view of the situation omits two considerations. One is that 
the country will not be left to itself. European immigration 
continues, and though more than two-thirds of the immigrants 
make valuable citizens, the remainder, many by their political 



chap. i\vm FUTURE OF POLITICAL INSTITUTIONS 851 

ignorance and instability, some few by their proneness to 
embrace anti-social doctrines, are a source of danger to the 
community, lowering its tone, providing material for dema- 
gogues to work on, threatening outbreaks like those of Penn- 
sylvania in 1877, of Cincinnati in 1884, of Chicago in 1886, of 
large districts in the West in 1893 and 1894. 

The other fact to be borne in mind is of still graver import. 
There is a part of the Atlantic where the westward speeding 
steam-vessel always expects to encounter fogs. On the fourth 
or fifth day of the voyage, while still in bright sunlight, one 
sees at a distance a long low dark-gray line across the bows, 
and is told this is the first of the fog-banks which have to be 
traversed. Presently the vessel is upon the cloud, and rushes 
into its chilling embrace, not knowing what perils of icebergs 
may be shrouded within the encompassing gloom. So Amer- 
ica, in her swift onward progress, sees, looming on the horizon 
and now no longer distant, a time of mists and shadows, 
wherein dangers may lie concealed whose form and magnitude 
she can scarcely yet conjecture. As she fills up her western 
regions with inhabitants, she sees the time approach when all 
the best land will have been occupied, and when the land now 
under cultivation will have been so far exhausted as to yield 
scantier crops even to more expensive culture. Although 
transportation may also have then become cheaper, the price 
of food will rise; farms will be less easily obtained and will 
need more capital to work them with profit; the struggle for 
existence will become more severe. And while the outlet 
which the West now provides for the overflow of the great 
cities will have become less available, the cities will have 
grown immensely more populous ; pauperism, now confined to 
some six or seven of the greatest, will be more widely spread ; 
wages will probably sink and work be less abundant. In fact 
the chronic evils and problems of old societies and crowded 
countries, such as we see them to-day in Europe, will have 
reappeared on this new soil. 

High economic authorities pronounce that the beginnings of 
this time of pressure lie not more than thirty years ahead. 
Xearly all of the best arable land in the West is already occu- 
pied, so that the second and third best will soon begin to be 
cultivated; while the exhaustion already complained of in 



852 SOCIAL INSTITUTIONS part vi 

farms which have been under the plough for three or four 
decades will be increasingly felt. It will be a time of trial for 
democratic institutions. The future of the United States dur- 
ing the next half century sometimes presents itself to the 
mind as a struggle between two forces, the one beneficent, the 
other malign, the one striving to speed the nation on to a port 
of safety before this time of trial arrives, the other to retard 
its progress, so that the tempest may be upon it before the 
port is reached. And the question to which one reverts in 
musing on the phenomena of American politics is this — Will 
the progress now discernible towards a wiser public opinion 
and a higher standard of public life succeed in bringing the 
mass of the people up to the level of what are now the best 
districts in the country before the days of pressure are at hand? 
Or will existing evils prove so obstinate, and European immi- 
gration so continue to depress the average of intelligence and 
patriotism among the voters, that when the struggle for life 
grows far harder than it now is, the masses will yield to the 
temptation to abuse their power and will seek violent, and 
because violent, probably vain and useless remedies, for the 
evils which will afflict them? Some such are indeed now pro- 
posed, and receive a support which, small as it is, is larger 
than any one would thirty years ago have predicted for them. 

If the crisis should arrive while a large part of the popula- 
tion still lacks the prudence and self-control which a democracy 
ought to possess, what result may be looked for? This is a 
question which no experience from similar crises in the past 
helps us to answer, for the phenomena will be new in the his- 
tory of the world. There may be pernicious experiments tried 
in legislation. There may be — indeed there have been already 
— occasional outbreaks of violence. There may even be, 
though nothing at present portends it, a dislocation of the 
present frame of government. One thing, however, need not 
be apprehended, the thing with which alarmists most fre- 
quently terrify us: there will not be anarchy. The forces 
which restore order and maintain it when restored are as 
strong in America as anywhere else in the world. 

While admitting the possibility of such a time of strife and 
danger, he who has studied America will not fail to note that 
she will have elements of strength for meeting it which are 



chap, cxviii FUTURE OF POLITICAL INSTITUTIONS 853 

lacking in some European countries. The struggles of labour 
and capital, though they have of late years become more viru- 
lent, do not seem likely to take the form of a widely prevailing 
hatred between classes. The distribution of landed property 
among a great many small owners is likely to continue. The 
habits of freedom, together with the moderation and self- 
control which they foster, are likely to stand unimpaired, or 
to be even confirmed and mellowed by longer use. The 
restraining and conciliating influence of religion is stronger 
than in France or Germany, and more enlightened than in 
those continental countries where religion now seems strongest. 
I admit that no one can say how far the United States of fifty 
years hence will in these respects resemble the United States 
of to-day. But if we are to base our anticipations on the facts 
of to-day, we may look forward to the future, not indeed with- 
out anxiety, when we mark the clouds that hang on the horizon, 
yet with a hope that is stronger than anxiety. 



CHAPTER CXIX 

SOCIAL AND ECONOMIC FUTURE 

If it be hard to forecast the development of political insti- 
tutions and habits, how much harder to form a conception of 
what the economic and social life of the United States will 
have become when another half-century of marvellously swift 
material progress has more than quintupled its wealth and 
more than tripled its population; and when the number of 
persons pursuing arts and letters, and educated to enjoy the 
most refined pleasures of life, will have become proportionately 
greater than it is now. The changes of the last fifty years, 
great as they have been, may then prove to have been no 
greater than those which the next fifty will have brought. 
Prediction is even more difficult in this sphere than in the 
sphere of government, because the forces at work to modify 
society are more numerous, as well as far more subtle and 
complex, and because not only the commercial prosperity of 
the country, but its thought and culture are more likely than 
its politics to be affected by the course of events in the Old 
World. All I can attempt is, as in the last preceding chapter, 
to call attention to some of the changes which are now in 
progress, and to conjecture whether the phenomena we now 
observe are due to permanent or to transitory causes. I shall 
speak first of economic changes and their influence on certain 
current problems, next of the movements of population and 
possible alterations in its character, lastly, of the tendencies 
which seem likely to continue to affect the social and intel- 
lectual life of the nation. 

The most remarkable economic feature of the years that 
have elapsed since the war has been the growth of great 
fortunes. There is a passage in the Federalist, written in 
1788, which says, "the private fortunes of the President and 

664 



JHAF.CXix SOCIAL AM) ECONOMIC FUTUKK 855 



Senators, as they must all be American citizens, cannot possi- 
bly be sources of danger.' 3 Even in 1883, Tocqueville was 
struck by the equal distribution of wealth in the United States 
and the absence of capitalists. To-day, however, there are 
more great millionaires, as well as more men with a capital of 
from $250,000 to $1,000,000 (£50,000 to £200,000), in Amer- 
ica than in any other country ; and forty years hence it may 
probably contain as many large fortunes as will exist in all 
the countries of Europe put together. Nor are these huge 
accumulations due to custom and the policy of the law, which 
have in England kept property, and especially landed property, 
in the hands of a few by the so-called custom of primogeniture, 
whereas in the American States the influence of law has tended 
the other way. An American testator usually distributes his 
wealth among his children equally. However rich he may be, he 
does not expect his daughters to marry rich men, but is just as 
willing to see them mated to persons supporting themselves by 
their own efforts. And he is far more inclined than Europeans 
are to bestow large part of his wealth upon objects of public 
utility, instead of using it to found a family. In spite of these 
dispersing forces, great fortunes grow with the growing wealth 
of the country, and the opportunities it offers of amassing 
enormous piles by bold operations. Even an unspeculative 
business may, if skilfully conducted, bring in greater gains 
than can often be hoped for in Europe, because the scale of 
operations is in America so large that a comparatively small 
percentage of profit may mean a very large income. These 
causes are likely to be permanent; nor can any legislation 
that is compatible with the rights of property as now under- 
stood, do much to restrict them. We may therefore expect 
that the class of very rich men, men so rich as to find it diffi- 
cult to spend their income in enjoying life, though they may 
go on employing it in business, will continue to increase. 

It may be suggested that the great fortunes of to-day are 
due to the swift development of the West, so that after a time 
they will cease to arise in such numbers, while those we now 
see will have been scattered. The development of the West 
must, however, continue for forty or fifty years to come ; and 
though the wealthy do not seek to keep their wealth together 
after their death by artificial means, many are the sons of the 



856 SOCIAL INSTITUTIONS 



rich who start with, capital enough to give thein a great advan- 
tage for further accumulation. There are as yet comparatively 
few careers to compete with business ; nor is it as easy as in 
Europe to spend a fortune on pleasure. The idle rich of 
America, who, though relatively few, are numerous enough to 
form a class in the greatest Atlantic cities, seem by no means 
the most contented class in the country. 

The growth of vast fortunes has helped to create a political 
problem, for they become a mark for the invective of the more 
extreme sections of the Labour or Socialist parties. But should 
their propaganda so far prosper as to produce legislative attacks 
upon accumulated wealth, such attacks will be directed (at 
least in the first instance), not against individual rich men, 
but against incorporated companies, since it is through corpo- 
rations that wealth has made itself obnoxious. Why the 
power of these bodies should have grown so much greater in 
the United States than in Europe, and why they should be 
more often controlled by a small knot of men, are questions 
too intricate to be here discussed. Companies are in many 
ways so useful that any general diminution of the legal facili- 
ties for forming them seems improbable ; but I conceive that 
they will be even more generally than hitherto subjected to 
special taxation ; and that their power of taking and using 
public franchises will be further restricted. He who considers 
the irresponsible nature of the power which three or four 
men, or perhaps one man, can exercise through a great corpo- 
ration, such as a railroad or telegraph company, the injury 
they can inflict on the public as well as on their competitors, 
the cynical audacity with which they have often used their 
wealth to seduce officials and legislators from the path of 
virtue, will find nothing unreasonable in the desire of the 
American masses to regulate the management of corporations 
and narrow the range of their action. The same remark 
applies, with even more force, to combinations of men not 
incorporated but acting together, the so-called Trusts, i.e. com- 
mercial rings, or syndicates. The next few years or even 
decades may be largely occupied with the effort to deal with 
these phenomena of a commercial system far more highly 
developed than the world has yet seen elsewhere. The eco- 
nomic advantages of the amalgamation of railroads and the 



cii.Yi'. oxix SOCIAL AND ECONOMIC FUTURE 857 

tendency in all departments of trade for large concerns to 
absorb or supplant small ones, are both so marked that prob- 
lems of this order seem likely to grow even larger and more 
urgent than they now are. Their solution will demand, not 
only great legal skill, but great economic wisdom. 

Of the tendency to aggregation there are happily few signs so 
far as relates to agriculture. The only great landed estates 
are in the Far West, particularly in California, where they are 
a relic from Spanish days, together with some properties held 
by land companies or individual speculators in the Upper 
Mississippi States, properties which are being generally sold 
in small farms to incoming settlers. The census returns of 
1890 do no doubt show a slight increase in the number of per- 
sons who hire from others the lands they till. While the 
increase in the number of farms cultivated by the owner 
during the decade ending with that year was only 9.56 per 
cent, that of farms rented for money by the cultivator was 
41.04 per cent, and that of farms rented for a share of the 
products 19.65 per cent. This may, however, be due partly 
to the growth of small negro farms in the South, partly to the 
disposition of many Western farmers to retire from active 
labour when old age approaches, letting their farms, and living 
on the rent thereof, partly also to the buying up of lands near 
a ''boom town" by speculators for a rise. Taking the country 
as a whole, there is no indication of any serious change to 
large properties. 1 In the South, large plantations are more 
rare than before the war, and much of the cotton crop is raised 
by peasant farmers, as the increase in the number of farms 
returned in 1890 proves. It is of course possible that cultiva- 
tion on a large scale may in some regions turn out to be 
more profitable than that of small freeholders : agriculture 
as an art may be still in its infancy, and science may alter 
the conditions of production in this highly inventive country. 
But at present nothing seems to threaten that system of small 
proprietors tilling the soil they live on which so greatly con- 

i Of the 4,564,(>41 farms returned in the census of 1890, 3,200,728 are culti- 
vated by the owner and 1,204,913 rented by the farmer; and of those owned 
little more than one-fourth would appear to be subject to mortgages. The 
proportion to the whole number of dwellings not owned but hired by those 
who live in them is, of course, very much larger, viz. 63 per cent for the whole 
country, and 76 per cent for the cities with more than 60,000 inhabitants. 



858 SOCIAL INSTITUTIONS part vi 

tributes to the happiness and stability of the commonwealth. 
The motives which in Europe induce rich men to buy large 
estates are here wholly wanting, for no one gains either politi- 
cal power or social status by becoming a landlord. 

Changes in economic conditions have begun to bring about 
changes in population which will work powerfully on the 
future of society and politics. One such change has been 
passing on New England during the last twenty years. Its 
comparatively thin and ungenial soil, which has generally hard 
rock at no great depth below the surface, and has been culti- 
vated in many places for nigh two hundred y ears, is now unable 
to sustain the competition of the rich and virgin lands of the 
West. The old race of New England yeomen have accordingly 
begun to sell or abandon their farms and to migrate to the 
upper valley of the Mississippi, where they make the pros- 
perity of the North-western States. The lands which they 
have left vacant are frequently occupied by immigrants, some- 
times French Canadians, but chiefly Irish, for few Germans 
and Slavs come to New England ; and thus that which was the 
most purely English part of America is now becoming one of 
the most Celtic, since the cities also are full of Irish and Cana- 
dians. In Massachusetts, for instance, the persons of foreign 
birth or parentage are already 56 per cent of the population, 
in Rhode Island 58 per cent. It is impossible not to regret the 
disappearance of a picturesquely primitive society which nov- 
elists and essayists have made familiar to us, with its delight- 
ful mixture of homely simplicity and keen intelligence. Of 
all the types of rustic life which imagination has since the 
days of Theocritus embellished for the envy or refreshment 
of the dwellers in cities, this latest type has been to modern 
Europe the most real and not the least attractive. It will 
soon have passed away ; nor will the life of the robust sons of 
the Puritans in the North-western prairies, vast and bare and 
new, reproduce the idyllic quality of their old surroundings. 
But the Irish squatters on the forsaken farms rear their 
children under better conditions than those either of the 
American cities or of the island of their birth, and they are 
replenishing New England with a vigorous stock. 

Another change may possibly be seen when in the course of 
a few decades immigration begins to turn towards a Southern 



cuxv. cxix SOCIAL AND ECONOMIC FUTURE 850 

region, the far greater part of which has remained until now 
undeveloped. Western North Carolina, Northern Georgia 
and Alabama, and Eastern Tennessee possess enormous min- 
eral deposits, only a few of which have yet begun to be worked. 
There are splendid forests ; there is in many places a soil 
believed to be fertile, little of which has been brought under 
cultivation; while the climate is in general not too hot for 
white labour. It seems probable that when the vacant spaces 
of the North-west are no longer wide enough to receive the 
continued influx of settlers, these regions will become the 
seat of industries attracting and employing a vast population : 
and this population may in large measure come from the more 
crowded parts of the Northern States, carrying with it North- 
ern habits and ideas which will quicken the progress of a 
backward part of the South, and bring her into a more perfect 
harmony with the rest of the country. 

The mention of the South raises a group of questions, bear- 
ing on the future of the negro and the relations he will sustain 
to the whites, which need not be discussed here, as they have 
been dealt with in preceding chapters (Chapters XCII. and 
XCIIL). The alarm which the growth of the coloured people 
formerly excited was allayed by the census of 1890, which 
showed that they increase more slowly than the whites, even in 
the South, and form a constantly diminishing proportion of 
the total population of the country. The negro is doubtless a 
heavy burden for American civilization to carry. No problems 
seem likely so long to confront the nation, and so severely to 
tax the national character on its moral side, as those which his 
presence raises. Much patience will be needed, and much 
sympathy. The negro, however, is necessary to the South, for 
only he can till its hot and unhealthy lowlands ; and his labour 
has proved helpful also to the mine-owners and iron-masters 
of the mining regions I have just referred to. His progress 
since emancipation has been more rapid than those who saw 
him in slavery expected, and gives ground for hope. So far 
from relapsing into sloth and barbarism, like his kinsfolk in 
most of the Antilles (where a few weeks' labour may provide 
food enough to support a family through the year), the negro 
has, especially in those districts where he is most in industrial 
contact with the whites, risen steadily in education, in intelli- 



SOCIAL INSTITUTIONS 



gence, in thrift, and in habits of steady industry. Other con- 
tact than industrial there is none, except so far as philanthro- 
pists seek him out to help him, for from social intercourse, and 
above all from intermarriage, with the whites, he is rigidly 
debarred. Painful as are the incidents of this social separation, 
and still more deplorable as are the occasional outbreaks of 
lawless violence against negroes accused of crimes against 
women, the relation of the two races is not, on the whole, one 
of mutual aversion, and does not contain any present elements 
of political danger. Even if the negro remains practically 
excluded in some States from the exercise of the suffrage, his 
condition is not the same as though he had never received that 
gift, for the fact that he is legally a citizen has raised both the 
white's view of him and his own view of himself. Thoughtful 
observers in the South seem to feel little anxiety, and expect 
that for many years to come the negroes, naturally a good- 
natured and easy-going race, will be content with the position 
of an inferior caste, which does the humbler kinds of work 
and unfortunately contributes a large quota of petty crime, 
but which will nevertheless become gradually permeated by 
American habits and ideas, and will send up into the higher 
walks of life a slowly increasing number of its ablest members. 
It might be thought that this elevating process would be accel- 
erated by the sympathy of the coloured people at the North, 
who, as they enjoy greater educational opportunities, might 
be expected to advance more quickly. But the negro race 
increases comparatively slowly to the north of latitude 40°, 
and even there it neither blends with the whites nor makes 
sufficient progress in wealth and influence to be able to help 
its Southern members. A very high authority estimates the 
probable coloured population in 1900 at ten millions out of 
a total population of eighty millions, and adds the remark 
that, " considering the limited area of land in which negroes 
have an advantage over whites by physiological adaptation to 
climate, and the industrial advantage of the whites where 
climatic conditions are equal, it is doubtful whether there 
is room in the South for so large a population." * 

1 General Francis A. Walker in Ency. Brit., article "United States." In 
1790 the coloured people were 19.3 per cent of the total population of the 
United States, and in 1880 only 13.1. In 1890 the percentage had sunk to 11.9. 



chap, oxia SOCIAL AND ECONOMIC FUTURE 861 

Two other questions relating to changes in population must 
be adverted to before we leave this part of the subject. There 
are Europeans who hold — and in this physiologically-minded 
age it is natural that men should hold — that the evolution of 
a distinctively American type of character and manners must 
be still distant, because the heterogeneous elements of the 
population (in which the proportion of English blood is 
smaller now than it was fifty years ago) must take a long 
time to become mixed and assimilated. This is a plausible 
view ; yet I doubt whether differences of blood have the im- 
portance which it assumes. What strikes the traveller, and 
what the Americans themselves delight to point out to him, 
is the amazing solvent power which American institutions, 
habits, and ideas exercise upon newcomers of all races. The 
children of Irishmen, Germans, and Scandinavians are certainly 
far more like native Americans than the current views of 
heredity would have led us to expect ; nor is it without inter- 
est to observe that Nature has here repeated on the Western 
continent that process of mixing Celtic with Germanic and 
Norse blood which she began in Britain more than a thou- 
sand years ago. The ratio borne by the Celtic elements in 
the population of Great Britain (i.e. the Picts and Gaels of 
Northern Britain and those of the Cymry of Middle and West- 
ern Britain who survived the onslaught of the Angles and 
Saxons in the fifth and sixth centuries) to the Teutonic 
(Low German and Norse) elements in that population as it 
stood in the seventeenth century, when England began to 
colonize North America, may probably be a ratio not much 
smaller than that which the Irish immigrants to America bear 
to the German immigrants : so that the relative proportions 
of Celtic and Teutonic blood, as these proportions may be 
taken to have existed in the Americans of a hundred years 
ago, have not been greatly altered by the Irish and the Ger- 
man immigration of the last six decades. 1 

This parallel may seem fanciful, yet those who lay stress on 

1 The analogy may be carried one step farther by observing that the Scan- 
dinavians who now settle in the North-western States, as they have come to 
America later than Celts or Germans, so also have come in a proportion to 
Celts and Germans corresponding to that borne to the previous inhabitants of 
Britain by the Danes and Norwegians who poured their vigorous blood into 
the veins of the English race from the ninth century onwards. 



862 SOCIAL INSTITUTIONS part vi 

race characteristics and expect the American people of the 
future to be sensibly changed by immigration, may be asked 
to remember that in that immigration neither the Celtic nor 
the Teutonic element has so far been able to preponderate. I 
venture, however, to believe that the intellectual and moral at- 
mosphere into which the settlers from Europe come has more 
power to assimilate them than their race qualities have power 
to change it; and that the future of America will be less 
affected by this influx of new blood than any one who has not 
studied the American democracy of to-day can realize. The 
time has not yet arrived for the formation of definite conclu- 
sions on this most interesting problem ; so I will venture to 
say no more than this, that the influence of European immigra- 
tion is so far to be sought, not so much in any tinging of the 
national character, as economically in the amazingly swift 
growth of the agricultural West, and politically in the un- 
fortunate results it has had upon the public life of cities, 
in the outbreaks of savage violence which may be traced to it, 
particularly in the mining districts, and in the unexpectedly 
severe strain it has put on universal suffrage. Nor must 
another source of evil pass unnoticed. The most conspicuous 
evidence of American prosperity has been hitherto seen in the 
high standard of living to which the native working classes of 
the North have risen, in the abundance of their food and the 
quality of their clothing, in the neatness and comfort of their 
homes, in the decent orderliness of their lives, and the fond- 
ness for reading of their women. The settlers of the last half 
century, though at first far behind the native Americans in all 
these respects, have tended to rise to their level and, except in 
a few of the larger cities, have after fifteen or twenty years 
practically adopted American standards of comfort. But within 
the last decade new swarms of European immigrants have in- 
vaded America, drawn from their homes in the eastern parts of 
Central Europe by the constant cheapening of ocean transit 
and by that more thorough drainage, so to speak, of the inland 
regions of Europe which is due to the extension of railways. 1 

1 The largest percentages of increase of foreign population were in the 
decade 1880-90, the following : Persons born in Hungary 441 per cent, in Russia 
411 per cent, in Italy 312 per cent, in Austria 218 per cent, in Poland 203 
per cent. 



chap, cxix SOCIAL AND ECONOMIC FUTURE 8G3 

These immigrants, largely of Slavonic race, come from a lower 
stratum of civilization than the German immigrants of the 
past, and, since they speak foreign tongues, are less quickly 
amenable to American influences, and probably altogether less 
improvable, than are the Irish. There seems to be a danger 
that if the}- continue to come in large numbers they may re- 
tain their own low standard of decency and comfort, and men- 
ace the continuance among the working class generally of that 
far higher standard which has hitherto prevailed in all but a 
few spots in the country. Already the United States, which 
twenty years ago rejoiced in the increase of immigration, has 
begun to regard it with disquiet ; and laws are passed to pre- 
vent the entrance not only of labourers brought under con- 
tract but of criminals and of persons who seem likely to 
become a burden upon the community. 1 

The intrusion of these inauspicious elements is not the only 
change in the population which may cause anxiety. For many 
years past there has been an indraught of people from the rural 
districts to the cities. Thirty per cent of the whole sixty-six 
millions are now, it is estimated, to be found in cities with a 
population exceeding 8000, and the transfer of people from a 
rural to an urban life goes on all the faster because it is due 
not merely to economic causes, such as operate all the world 
over, and to the spirit of enterprise which is strong in the 
American youth, but also to the distaste which the average 
native American, a more sociable and amusement-loving being 
than the English or German peasant, feels for the isolation of 
farm life and the monotony of farm labour. 2 Even in 1844 
E. W. Emerson wrote : " The cities drain the country of the best 
part of its population, the flower of the youth of both sexes 

1 Such laws are of course difficult of enforcement, because when the immi- 
grants arrive it is seldom possible to say which ought to be refused ingress as 
paupers or criminals; and it has accordingly been proposed to throw upon 
United States Consuls at Eu^pean ports of departure the duty of sifting those 
who seek to embark for Am%ica, and granting certificates to those who are 
approved. However, in the year ending June 30th, 1892, 2801 were debarred 
from entering, the total immigration for 1892 being 5-17,060. 

2 There is sometimes a scarcity of labour on farms in the Eastern States, 
while the cities are crowded with men out of work. 

The percentage of urbans to total population, which in 1790 was 3.35 was 
in 1890 29.12. In the North Atlantic States it was 51.58 per cent of the popu- 
lation of those States. The increase is chieflv in a few large cities. 



864 SOCIAL INSTITUTIONS part vi 

goes into the towns, and the country is cultivated by a much 
inferior class." Since then the Western forests have been 
felled and the Western prairies brought under the plough by 
the stalwart sons of New England and New York. Bat now 
again, and in the West hardly less than in the East, the com- 
plaint goes up that native American men and women long for 
a city life, and gladly leave tillage to the newcomers from Ger- 
many and Scandinavia. Whether a city-bred population will 
have the physical vigour which the native rural population has 
shown — a population which in some of the Western States 
strikes one as perhaps more vigorous than any Europe can 
point to — is at least doubtful, for though American cities 
have sanitary advantages greater than those of most towns in 
Europe, the stress and strain of their city life is more exhaust- 
ing. And it need scarcely be added that in the oldest and 
most highly civilized districts of the country, and among the 
more refined sections of the people, the natural increase of 
population is much smaller than it is among the poorer and 
the ruder. 

We have been wont to think of the principle of natural 
selection as that which makes for the progress of the race in 
the human, as it has done in the other families of animated 
creatures. But in the most advanced communities this prin- 
ciple is apt to be reversed, and the section of the population 
which tends to propagate itself most largely is that very 
section which is least fitted to raise, or even to sustain, the 
intellectual and moral level, as well as the level of physical 
excellence, already attained. Marriages are later and fami- 
lies smaller among the best nurtured and most cultivated 
class than they are among the uneducated and improvident ; 
more children are born to the physically weak and morally 
untrained than to those among the rich whose natural gifts 
would in ages of violence, when men and families survived 
by physical and mental strength, have enabled them to prevail 
in the struggle for existence. Thus afcrce which once worked 
powerfully for the improvement of a national stock has now 
been turned the other way, and makes for a decline in the 
average capacities wherewith each man is born into the world. 
So in New England and the Eastern States generally, though 
there are families, historic by the number of eminent names 



SOCIAL AND ECONOMIC FUTURE 865 



they have produced, which still flourish and count their cousin- 
hood, by hundreds, it is nevertheless true that the original 
English race, if it grows at all, grows less swiftly than the 
Irish or the German, and far less swiftly than it did some 
sixty years ago. 1 Yet here also that assimilative power of 
which I have spoken comes to the help of the nation. Those 
who rise from the less cultivated class, who do not belong to 
what Dr. Holmes calls the Brahmin caste, still surviving in 
Xew England and once strong in Virginia, are breathed upon 
by the spirit of the country ; they absorb its culture and carry 
on its traditions ; and they do so all the more readily because 
the pervading sense of equality makes a man's entrance into a 
class higher than that wherein he was born depend solely on 
his personal qualities. 

European readers may ask whether the swift growth not 
only of wealth but of great fortunes in the United States will 
not end in creating an aristocracy of rich families, and there- 
with a new structure of society. I see no ground for expecting 
this, not merely because the wealthiest class passes down by 
imperceptible gradations of fortune to a working class far bet- 
ter off than the working classes of Europe, but also because 
the faith in equality and the love of equality are too deeply- 
implanted in every American breast to be rooted out by any 
economic changes. They are the strongest beliefs and passions 
of the people. They make no small part of the people's daily 
happiness ; and I can more easily imagine the United States 
turned into a monarchy on the one hand or a group of petty 
republics on the other than the aristocratic ideas and habits of 
Germany or even of England established on American soil. 
Social exclusiveness there may be, — signs of it are already 
discernible, — but visible and overt recognitions of differences 
of rank, whether in the use of hereditary titles, or in the 
possession by one class of special privileges, or in the habit of 

1 General F. A. Walker gives the rate of increase of the native whites in the 
United States at 31.25 per cent in the decade 1870-80, but that of native whites 
born of native parents at 28 per cent. The average size of the family decreased 
in the same decade from 5.09 persons to 5.04. In 1890 it had further fallen to 
4.0.'!, and in some of the States where the population is most largely native 
born it was still lower, e.g. Maine (4.40), New Hampshire (4.31), Indiana 
(4.60), whereas in the South it was comparatively high, e.g. West Virginia 
(5.43), Texas (5.44). 

VOL. II 3K 



SOCIAL INSTITUTIONS 



deference by one class to another, would imply a revolution in 
national ideas, and a change in what may be called the chemical 
composition of the national mind, which is of all things the 
least likely to arrive. 

I have left to the last the most difficult problem which a 
meditation on the future of American society raises. From 
those first days of the Eepublic in which its people realized 
that they were Americans and no longer merely English colo- 
nists, it has been a question of the keenest interest for them, 
as it is now for the world, when and how and in what form 
tliey would develop a distinctively new and truly national type 
of character and genius. In 1844 Emerson said, addressing 
those who had lately seen the coincidence of two fateful phe- 
nomena — the extension of railways into the West and the 
establishment of lines of swift ocean steamers to Europe — 

" We in the Atlantic States by position have been commercial and have 
imbibed easily a European culture. Luckily for r us, now that steam has 
narrowed the Atlantic to a strait, the nervous rocky West is intruding a 
new and continental element into the national mind, and we shall yet 
have an American genius. We cannot look on the freedom of this coun- 
try in connection with its youth without a presentiment that here shall 
laws and institutions exist on some scale of proportion to the majesty of 
nature. To men legislating for the area between the two oceans, betwixt 
the snows and the tropics, somewhat of the gravity of nature will infuse 
itself into the code." 

Half a century has passed since these words were spoken, 
but many events have intervened to delay that full expression 
of the national gifts in letters and arts, as well as in insti- 
tutions, by which a modern people must reveal the peculiar 
nature of its genius. Emerson would doubtless have admitted 
in 1874 that the West had contributed less of a '-'new and con- 
tinental element" than he expected, and that the majesty of 
nature had not yet filled Congress with its inspiration. Prob- 
ably another generation must arise, less preoccupied with the 
task of material development than the two last have been, 
before this expression can be looked for. Europe, which 
used to assume in its contemptuous way that neither arts 
nor letters could be expected from commercial America — as 
Charles Lamb said that the whole Atlantic coast figured itself 
to him as one long counter spread with wares — Europe has 



chap, cxix SOCIAL AM) ECONOMIC FUTURE 807 

now fallen into the opposite error of expecting the develop- 
ment of arts and letters to keep pace with and be immediately 
worthy of the material greatness of the country. And the 
Americans themselves have perhaps, if a stranger may be 
pardoned the remark, erred in supposing that they made, 
either in the days of the first settlements or in those when 
they won their independence, an entirely new departure, and 
that their new environment and their democratic institutions 
rendered them more completely a new people than the children 
of England, continuing to speak the English tongue and to be 
influenced by European literature, could in truth have been 
expected to become. As Protestants have been apt to forget 
the traditions of the mediaeval Church, and to renounce the 
glories of St. Anselm and St. Bernard and Dante, so the 
Americans of forty years ago — for this is a mistake which 
they are beginning to outgrow — sought to think of themselves 
as superior in all regards to the aristocratic society from which 
they had severed themselves, and looked for an elevation in their 
character and an originality in their literature which neither 
the amplitude of their freedom nor the new conditions of their 
life could at once produce in the members of an ancient people. 
What will be either the form or the spirit of transatlantic 
literature and thought when they have fully ripened is a ques- 
tion on which I do not attempt to speculate, for the forces that 
shape literature aud thought are the subtlest the historian has 
to deal with. I return to the humbler task of pointing to 
causes whose already apparent power is producing a society 
such as has never yet been seen in Europe. Nowhere in the 
world is there growing up such a vast multitude of intelligent, 
cultivated, and curious readers. It is true that of the whole 
population a majority of the men read little but newspapers, 
and many of the women little but novels. Yet there remains 
a number to be counted by millions who enjoy and are moved 
by the higher products of thought and imagination; and it 
must be that as this number continues to grow, each genera- 
tion rising somewhat above the level of its predecessors, his- 
tory and science, and even poetry, will exert a power such as 
they have never yet exerted over the masses of any country. 
And the masses of America seem likely to constitute one-half 
of civilized mankind. There are those now living who may 



SOCIAL INSTITUTIONS 



see before they die two hundred and fifty millions of men 
dwelling between the Atlantic and the Pacific, obeying the 
same government, speaking the same tongue, reading the same 
books. A civilized society like this is so much vaster than 
any which history knows of, that we can scarcely figure to 
ourselves what its character will be, nor how the sense of its 
immensity will tell upon those who address it. The range of 
a writer's power will be such as no writers have ever yet pos- 
sessed; and the responsibility which goes hand in hand with 
the privilege of moving so great a multitude will devolve upon 
the thinkers and poets of England no less than upon those 
of America. 

The same progress which may be expected in the enjoyment 
of literature and in its influence may be no less expected in 
the other elements of what we call civilization. Manners are 
becoming in America more generally polished, life more orderly, 
equality between the sexes more complete, the refined pleas- 
ures more easily accessible than they have ever yet been 
among the masses of any people. And this civilization attains 
a unity and harmony which makes each part of the nation 
understand the other parts more perfectly, and enables an 
intellectual impulse to be propagated in swifter waves of light 
than has been the case among the far smaller and more ancient 
states of Europe. 

While this unity and harmony strengthen the cohesion of 
the Eepublic, while this diffused cultivation may be expected 
to overcome the economic dangers that threaten it, they are 
not wholly favourable to intellectual creation, or to the vari- 
ety and interest of life. I will try to explain my meaning by 
describing the impression which stamps itself on the mind of 
the stranger who travels westward by railway from Xew 
York to Oregon. In Ohio he sees communities which ninety 
years ago were clusters of log-huts among forests, and which 
are now cities better supplied with all the appliances of 
refined and even luxurious life than were Philadelphia and 
NTew York in those days. In Illinois he sees communities 
which were in 1848 what Ohio was in 1805. In the new 
States of Dakota and Washington he sees settlements just 
emerging from a rudeness like that of primitive Ohio or Illi- 
nois, and reflects that such as Ohio is now, such as Illinois is 



chap, cxix SOCIAL AND ECONOMIC FUTURE 869 

fast becoming, such in some twenty years more will Dakota 
and Washington have become, the process of development 
moving, by the help of science, with an always accelerated 
speed. " If I return this way thirty years hence," he thinks, 
" I shall see, except in some few tracts which nature has con- 
demned to sterility, nothing but civilization, a highly devel- 
oped form of civilization, stretching from the one ocean to the 
other ; the busy, eager, well-ordered life of the Hudson will be 
the life of those who dwell on the banks of the Yellowstone, or 
who look up to the snows of Mount Shasta from the valleys of 
California." The Far West has hitherto been to Americans 
of the Atlantic States the land- of freedom and adventure and 
mystery, the land whose forests and prairies, with trappers 
pursuing the wild creatures, and Indians threading in their 
canoes the maze of lakes, have touched their imagination and 
supplied a background of romance to the prosaic conditions 
which surround their own lives. All this will have vanished ; 
and as the world has by slow steps lost all its mystery since 
the voyage of Columbus, so America will from end to end be 
to the Americans even as England is to the English. What 
new background of romance will be discovered ? Where will 
the American imagination of the future seek its materials 
when it desires to escape from dramas of domestic life ? 
Where will bold spirits find a field in which to relieve their 
energies when the Western world of adventure is no more ? 
As in our globe so in the North American continent, there will 
be something to regret when all is known and the waters of 
civilization have covered the tops of the highest mountains. 

He who turns away from a survey of the government and 
society of the United States and tries to estimate the place 
they hold in the history of the world's progress cannot repress 
a slight sense of disappointment when he compares what he 
has observed and studied with that which idealists have 
hoped for, and Americans have desired to establish. " I have 
seen," he says, "the latest experiment which mankind have 
tried, and the last which they can ever hope to try under 
equally favouring conditions. A race of unequalled energy 
and unsurpassed variety of gifts, a race apt for conquest and 
for the arts of peace, which has covered the world with the 
triumphs of its sword, and planted its laws in a hundred 



870 SOCIAL INSTITUTIONS part vi 

islands of the sea, sent the choicest of its children to a new 
land, rich with the bounties of nature, bidding them increase 
and multiply, with no enemies to fear from Europe, and few 
of those evils to eradicate which Europe inherits from its 
feudal past. They have multiplied till the sapling of two 
centuries ago overtops the parent trunk; they have drawn 
from their continent a wealth which no one dreamed of, they 
have kept themselves aloof from Old World strife, and have 
no foe in the world to fear ; they have destroyed, after a tre- 
mendous struggle, the one root of evil which the mother coun- 
try in an unhappy hour planted among them. And yet the 
government and institutions, as well as the industrial civiliza- 
tion of America, are far removed from that ideal common- 
wealth which European philosophers imagined, and Americans 
expected to create." The feeling expressed in these words, so 
often heard from European travellers, is natural to a European, 
who is struck by the absence from America of many of those 
springs of trouble to which he has been wont to ascribe the 
ills of Europe. But it is only the utterance of the ever-fresh 
surprise of mankind at the discovery of their own weaknesses 
and shortcomings. Why should either philosophers in Europe, 
or practical men in America have expected human nature to 
change when it crossed the ocean ? when history could have 
told them of many ideals not less high and hopes not less con- 
fident than those that were formed for America which have 
been swallowed up in night. The vision of a golden age has 
often shimmered far off before the mind of men when they 
have passed through some great crisis, or climbed to some 
specular mount of faith, as before the traveller when he has 
reached the highest pastures of the Jura, the line of Alpine 
snows stands up and glitters with celestial light. Such a 
vision seen by heathen antiquity still charms us in that famous 
poem of Virgil's which was long believed to embody an in- 
spired prophecy. Such another rejoiced the souls of pious men 
in the days of Constantine, when the Christian Church, tri- 
umphant over her enemies, seemed about to realize the king- 
dom of heaven upon earth. Such a one reappeared to the 
religious reformers of the sixteenth century, who conceived 
that when they had purged Christianity of its corrupt accre- 
tions, the world would be again filled with the glory of God, 



chap, cxix SOCIAL AND ECONOMIC FUTURK 871 



and men order their lives according to His law. And such a 
vision transported men a century ago, when it was not unnat- 
urally believed that in breaking the fetters by which religions 
and secular tyranny had bound the sonls and bodies of men, 
and in proclaiming the principle that government sprang from 
the consent of all, and must be directed to their good, enough 
had been done to enable the natural virtues of mankind to 
secure the peace and happiness of nations. Since 1789 many 
things have happened, and men have become less inclined to 
set their hopes upon political reforms. Those who still expect 
a general amelioration of the world from sudden changes look 
to an industrial and not a political revolution, or seek in their 
impatience to destroy all that now exists, fancying that from 
chaos something better may emerge. In Europe, whose 
thinkers have seldom been in a less cheerful mood than they 
are to-day, there are many who seem to have lost the old faith 
in progress ; many who feel when they recall the experiences 
of the long pilgrimage of mankind, that the mountains which 
stand so beautiful in the blue of distance, touched here by 
flashes of sunlight and there by shadows of the clouds, will 
when one comes to traverse them be no Delectable Mountains, 
but scarred by storms and seamed by torrents, with wastes of 
stone above, and marshes stagnating in the valleys. Yet there 
are others whose review of that pilgrimage convinces them 
that though the ascent of man may be slow it is also sure ; 
that if we compare each age with those which preceded it we 
rind that the ground which seems for a time to have been lost 
is ultimately recovered, we see human nature growing grad- 
ually more refined, institutions better fitted to secure justice, 
the opportunities and capacities for happiness larger and more 
varied, so that the error of those who formed ideals never yet 
attained lay only in their forgetting how much time and effort 
and patience under repeated disappointment must go to that 
attainment. 

This less sombre type of thought is more common in the 
United States than in Europe, for the people not only feel in 
their veins the pulse of youthful strength, but remember the 
magnitude of the evils they have vanquished, and see that 
they have already achieved many things which the Old World 
has longed for in vain. And by so much as the people of the 



872 SOCIAL INSTITUTIONS 



United States are more hopeful, by that much are they more 
healthy. They do not, like their forefathers, expect to attain 
their ideals either easily or soon ; but they say that they will 
continue to strive towards them, and they say it with a note 
of confidence in the voice which rings in the ear of the Euro- 
pean visitor, and fills him with something of their own san- 
guine spirit. America has still a long vista of years stretching 
before her in which she will enjoy conditions far more auspi- 
cious than any European country can count upon. And that 
America marks the highest level, not only of material well- 
being, but of intelligence and happiness, which the race has 
yet attained, will be the judgment of those who look not at 
the favoured few for whose benefit the world seems hitherto 
to have framed its institutions, but at the whole body of the 
people. 



APPENDIX 



NOTE TO CHAPTER LXI 

LXPLA NATION (liY MR. G. BRADFORD) OF THE NOMINATING MACHINERY 
AM) ITS PROCEDURE IN THE STATE OF MASSACHUSETTS l 

1. Ward and City Committees. — The city is divided into wards by act 
of the city council prescribed by the legislature (number of wards in the 
city of Boston, twenty-five). Each ward in its primary meetings appoints 
a ward committee of not less than three persons for the party : that is, the 
Republican primary appoints a Republican, and the Democratic primary 
a Democratic committee with varying number of members. This com- 
mittee attends to the details of elections, such as printing and distributing- 
notices and posters, canvassing voters, collecting and disbursing money, 
etc. The ward primaries nominate candidates for the common council of 
the city (consisting of seventy- two members), who are elected in and 
must be residents of the ward. The several ward committees constitute 
the city committee, which is thus a large body (practically a convention), 
and represents all the wards. The city committee chooses from its mem- 
bers a president, secretary, and treasurer, and each ward committee 
chooses one of its members as a member of a general executive com- 
mittee, one for a general finance committee, and one for a general printing 
committee. The city committee formerly, acting as a convention, nomi- 
nated the party candidates for the elective offices, which are now the 
mayor, the aldermen (twelve chosen by districts),' 2 the members of the 
school committee, and the street commissioners. The Democratic city 
committee does this still ; but much dissatisfaction was caused among the 
Republicans by the fact that wards which had but very few Republican 
voters had an equal share of power in the city committee, and therefore 
in making nominations. (It will be seen that in organizing the national 
convention a similar difficulty has been encountered.) The Republican 
city committee has therefore ceased to make nominations, but calls upon 
the wards to send delegates, in proportion to their Republican vote, to 
a general convention for the nomination of candidates. The party lines 
are, however, very loosely drawn, especially in cities outside of Boston, 
and anybody may nominate candidates with chance of success propor- 
tional to his efforts. 

1 Copyright by Gamaliel Bradford, 1888. 

2 By an Act of the State Government of 1893, accepted by the voters of Bos- 
ton, the twelve aldermen are elected at large or on general ticket, instead of 
by districts, no voter to vote for more than seven aldermen on one ballot, and 
the twelve having the highest number of votes to be declared elected. 



87G APPENDIX 



In the towns as apart from the cities, the people, in primary of each 
party, elect a town committee which corresponds to the ward committees 
of the city. The town and city committees call the primaries which elect 
their successors ; and thus the system is kept alive. The city committee 
may by vote modify the structure, mode of election and functions, both 
of itself and of the ward committees, but in the town this power lies 
with the caucus or primary. The above account applies to the city of 
Boston, but the principles are substantially the same throughout the cities 
of Massachusetts, the main difference being in thoroughness of organiza- 
tion. 

2. County. — The county is much less important in New England than 
in any other part of the country. There are to be chosen, however, 
county commissioners (three in number, one retiring each year, having 
charge of roads, jails, houses of correction, registry of deeds, and, in 
part, of the courts), county treasurer, registrar of deeds, registrar of 
probate, and sheriff. These candidates are nominated by party conven- 
tions of the county, called by a committee elected by the last county 
convention. The delegates are selected by ward and town primaries at 
the same time with other delegates. 

3. State. — First as to representatives to State legislature, 240 in 
number. The State is districted as nearly as may be in proportion to 
population. If a ward of a city, or a single town, is entitled to a repre- 
sentative, the party candidate is nominated in the primary, and must be 
by the Constitution (of the State) a resident in the district. If two or 
more towns, or two or more wards send a representative in common, the 
candidate is nominated in cities by a joint caucus of the wards interested 
called by the ward and city committee, and in the towns by a convention 
called by a committee elected by the previous convention. The tendency 
in such cases is that each of these towns or wards shall have the privilege 
of making nomination in turn of one of its residents. 

As regards senators the State is divided into forty districts. The dis- 
trict convention to nominate candidates is called by a committee elected 
by the preceding convention, and consists of delegates elected by ward 
and town primaries at the same time with those for State, county, and 
councillor conventions. Each senatorial district convention elects one 
member of the State central committee, and, among the Democrats, 
fifteen members at large are added to this central committee by the last 
preceding State convention. 

The convention for nominating members of the governor's council 
(eight in number) also appoints a committee to call the next convention. 

The State convention consists of delegates from ward and town prima- 
ries in proportion to their party votes at last elections, and is summoned 
by the State central committee, consisting of forty members, elected 
in October by senatorial convention, and taking office on 1st January. 
The State committee organizes by choice of chairman, secretary, treas- 
urer, and executive committee, who oversee the whole State campaign. 
The State convention nominates the party candidates for governor, 



KEARNEYISM IN CALIFORNIA 



lieutenant-governor, secretary of state treasurer, auditor, attorney- 
general 

\. National. — First, representatives to Congress. Massachusetts is 
now (1892) entitled bo thirteen, and is divided into thirteen districts. 
The convention in each district to nominate party candidates is called 
every two years by a committee elected by the last convention. The 
delegates from wards and primaries are elected at the same time with the 
other delegates. As United States senators are chosen by the State legis- 
latures, no nominating convention is needed, though it has been suggested 
that the nominations might with advantage be made in the State conven- 
tion, ami be morally binding on the party in the legislature. Next are to 
be chosen, every four years, delegates to the National convention, — that 
is, under present party customs, two for each senator and representative 
of the State in Congress. For Massachusetts, therefore, at the present 
time, thirty. The delegates corresponding to the representative districts 
are nominated by a convention in each district, called in the spring by 
the same committee which calls the congressional representative nominat- 
ing convention in the autumn. The delegates corresponding to senators 
are chosen at a general convention in the spring, called by the State cen- 
tral committee from wards and primaries, as always ; and the thirty 
delegates at the meeting of the National convention choose the State 
members of the National committee. 

The National convention for nominating party candidates for President, 
called by a National committee, elected one member by the delegates of 
each State at the last National convention. The National convention 
(and this is true in general of all conventions) may make rules for its 
own procedure and election — as, for example, that all State delegates 
shall be chosen at large instead of by districts. xVt the National con- 
ventions, especially of the Republicans, complaint has been frequently 
made, as in the case of city committees, that parts of the country in 
which there are very few members of the party have yet an undue share 
of representation in the conventions ; but no successful plan has yet been 
devised for overcoming the difficulty. The National committee manage 
the party campaign, sending money and speakers to the weaker States, 
issue documents, collect subscriptions, and dispense general advice. 



NOTES TO CHAPTER XC 

Some further notion of the character of the Constitution of 1879 may 
be obtained by referring to the extracts from it, printed at the end of 
Volume T. 

Among the improvements which it introduced may be noted the length- 
ening of the term of judges of the supreme court from ten to twelve 
years ; the prohibition of lotteries ; the perpetual exclusion from the suf- 



878 APPENDIX 



frage of all persons convicted of any infamous crime, or of the embezzle- 
ment or misappropriation of public money ; and the placing the State 
university above the reach of the legislature, which can now neither ter- 
minate its existence nor modify its organization. This change has not 
been found to make the legislature less willing to aid the university. In 
1887 an Act was passed imposing a tax of one cent upon every .$100 of 
taxable property, to be applied for the 'support of the University of 
California. Nor has the provision (Art. ix. § G) that the revenue 
derived from the State school fund and State school tax should be 
"devoted exclusively to the support of primary and grammar schools," 
been found to work badly for secondary education, since it has rather 
induced the cities to make a more liberal provision than they formerly 
did for schools of the higher type out of local taxation. 



REMARKS BY MR. DENIS KEARNEY ON " KEARNEYISM IN CALIFORNIA " 

After the appearance of the first edition of this book I received a letter 
from Mr. Denis Kearney, making remarks on some of the statements 
contained in the chapter entitled " Kearneyism in California." This 
letter is unfortunately too long to be inserted as a whole ; and it does not 
seem to me seriously to affect the tenor of the statements contained in 
that chapter, which my Californian informants, on whom I can rely, 
declare to be quite correct. Mr. Kearney's version of what happened 
varies from that which I have followed. I have, however, in a few pas- 
sages slightly modified the text of the former edition ; and I give here 
such extracts from Mr. Kearney's letter as seem sufficient to let his view 
of his own conduct be fairly and fully set forth. As he responded to my 
invitation to state his case, made in reply to a letter of remonstrance 
from him, I am anxious that all the justice I can do him should be done. 

Pages 431. — " In September, 1877, immediately after the general State, 
municipal, and congressional elections, I called a meeting of working 
men and others to discuss publicly the propriety of permanently organiz- 
ing for the purpose of holding the politicians up to the pledges made to 
the people before election. ... I made up my mind that if our civiliza- 
tion — California civilization — was to continue, Chinese immigration 
must be stopped, and I saw in the people the power to enforce that 
« must.' Hence the meeting. This meeting resolved itself into a perma- 
nent organization, and • resoluted ' in favour of a ' red-hot ' agitation. I 
was, in spite of my earnest protests, elected President of this new organi- 
zation, with instructions from the meeting to ' push the organization ' 
throughout the city and State without delay. Our aim was to press Con- 
gress to take action against the Chinese at its next sitting. ... I did not 
sympathize with the July meeting of 1877, which was called to express 



KEARNEYISM IN CALIFORNIA 



sympathy with the men on strike in Pittsburg, Pennsylvania. 1 am 
opposed to strikes in ;i Republic, where the ballot of a millionaire's 
gardener or coachman cancels that of their master. . . . The part that I 
took in the municipal election, mentioned in page 391 [now 431], was 

brought about in this way. I owned a prosperous draying busim ss 
was an influential member of the Draymen's Union. The streets of our 
eity were in a horrible condition, almost impassable, making it very 
difficult for teams to haul any kind of a load to and from the distributing 
centres. The money appropriated for their repair by the taxpayers was 
squandered by the men elected to see that it was honestly spent. The 
Draymen's Union, for self-protection, went into municipal politics and 
demanded that we be given the superintendence of streets." 

Page 1-V2. — •• True I am not one of the literati, that is to say, a pro- 
fessor of degrees and master of languages, although I can speak more 
than one. For more than thirty years I have been a great reader and 
close student of men and measures. No Chronicle reporter ever wrote 
or dressed up a speech for me. They did the reverse ; always made it a 
point to garble and misrepresent. It was only when the Chronicle saw 
where it could make a hit that it spread out a speech. To illustrate, if I 
attacked a monopoly whose rottenness the Chronicle shielded for money, 
it then would garble and misrepresent that speech ; but if I attacked an 
institution the Chronicle wanted to blackmail, the speech would be given 
in full once or twice, or they would keep it up until ' seen.' " 

Page -432. — (Meeting on Nob Hill.) 

" I did not use any such language as is imputed to me. Xob Hill is the 
centre of the Sixth Ward, and I advertised for the meeting there to 
organize the Sixth Ward Club. We had bonfires at all our meetings so 
as to direct the people where to go. . . . Xo such construction could have 
been put upon the language used in my speech of that evening. The 
police authorities had shorthand reporters specially detailed to take down 
my speeches verbatim. ... I was not arrested on account of the Xob 
Hill meeting. I cannot now tell without looking up the matter how many 
times I was arrested. At last the authorities, finding their efforts to 
break up the movement of no avail, decided to proclaim the meetings a la 
Balfour in Ireland. Upon the heels of the proclamation to stop our 
meetings came another from the Governor calling for an election to fill 
a vacancy in the legislature in the aristocratic district of Alameda, Taking 
advantage of the situation. I went into the district, organized and carried 
insl a combination of both Democrats and Republicans. This gave 
inding in the field of politics, and frightened the authorities, who 
then and there withdrew opposition to the new movement." 

436. — " Shortly after the election of the delegates I made a tour 
of the United States, speaking everywhere to immense audiences and 
- that they petition Congress to stop Chinese immigration. . . . My 
trip was a brilliant success. In less than a year I had succeeded in lifting 
the Chinese from a local to a great national question. This also disputes 
the statement that my trip East was a fail 



880 APPENDIX 



Page 441. — ("Since 1880 he has played no part in Calif ornian poli- 
tics.") 

"This is true to this extent. I stopped agitating after having shown 
the people their immense power, and how it could be used. The Chinese 
question was also in a fair way of being solved. The plains of this State 
were strewn with the festering carcasses of public robbers. I was poor, 
with a helpless family, and I went to work to provide for their comfort. 
Common sense would suggest that if I sought office, or the emoluments 
of office, I could easily have formed combinations to be elected either 
governor of my State or United States senator." 

Page 435 ( ; ' hoodlums and other ragamuffins who formed the first Sand 
Lot meetings.") 

"It was only when the city authorities, who while persecuting us, 
either hired all of the halls or frightened their owners or lessees into not 
allowing us to hire them, that we were driven to the Sand Lots. At 
these early meetings we sometimes had to raise from $500 to $1000 to 
carry on the agitation inside and outside the courts. If, then, the audi- 
ences were composed of hoodlums and ragamuffins, how could we have 
raised so much money at a single meeting ? " 

Page 440. — "I also dispute some of the statements therein. All of the 
bills of the first session of the Legislature under the new Constitution 
were declared unconstitutional by the State Supreme Court on account 
of the little scheming jokers tucked away in them. The Anti-Chinese 
Bills that were passed, — and all introduced were passed, — were de- 
clared by the Federal judges as in conflict with the United States Con- 
stitution. I advocated the adoption of the new Constitution, and delivered 
one hundred and thirty speeches in that campaign. The San Francisco 
papers sent correspondents with me. The very prominence of the ques- 
tions threw me into the foreground, so that I had to stand the brunt of 
the battle, and came very near being assassinated for my pains." 

Page 443. — "I don't quite understand what you mean by the 'solid 
classes.' The money-lenders, land monopolists, and those who were 
growing rich by importing and employing Chinese labourers were against 
me, and did all in their power to kill both the movement and myself. . . . 
My only crime seems to have been that I opposed the Mongolization of 
my State in the interest of our own people and their civilization. I never 
received a dollar from public office or private parties for my services. 
They were gratuitous, and have secured me, I am sure, the esteem of the 
majority of my fellow-citizens, among whom I am still not without 
influence." 



INDEX 



Ability, practical, in America goes 

into business, ii. 7"2 
Abolition, and the Republican party, 

ii. 90 
Absence of a capital, ii. 701 
Achaean League, i. 23, 36, 72, 259, 350, 

357 
Act of Settlement (English), i. 216, 

241 
A- lams. C. F., "The Centennial Mile- 
stone " quoted, i. 615 
Adams, H. B., " The College of William 

and Maty " cited, i. 018 
Adams, John (President), i. 41, 42,44, 

78, 02, 275; ii. 7, 131, 176 
Adams, J. Q. (President), i. 47, 83, 88; 

ii. 177, 229 
Adams, Samuel, Hosmer's Life of, i. 

595 

'•Administrative Law" of France, i. 

J44 
Uaska, i. 578; ii. 180 

Albany, the people's representative at, 
and the farmers, ii. 239 

Aldermen, i. 625 ; ii. 02; (New York), 
163, 240 

Aliens, allowed to vote, i. 327; recent 
Alien Acts declared unconstitu- 
tional, 335 

Ambassadors, appointment of, i. 53 

Amendments to the Federal Consti- 
tution, i. 27, 55, 101. 126, 235, 320, j 
364-371, 697, 702, 705, 7m J 
to Stare Constitutions, 460 

America, rapid changes in, i. 2 ; a com- 
monwealth of commonwealths, 17; 
a country full of change and move- 
ment, ii. 28; intense faith of its 
people in. 350 

•• American,"' meaning of the term, i. 
20 

American and European systems corn- 



ability engaged in politics, i. 70, 80; 
position of the President, 01; Con- 
gress, 00. 14S, 184, 107, 201, 277 sqq. ; 
contrast with the Cabinet system, 
277-207 ; ii. 221 ; defects of the frame 
of government, i. 307; fear of for- 
eign aggression, 307 ; the founda- 
tions of party, ii. 16; types of 
statesmen, 228; general interest in 
politics, 260 ; proportion of urban to 
rural population, 270, ii. 863; faith 
in the people, i. 283 ; education, 284 ; 
classes, 203 sqq. ; aversion to con- 
structive legislation, 355; laissez 
/aire, 535; stability, 594; religious 
equality, 69J>; influence of religion, 
714 sqq. ; position of women, 728 sqq. ; 
intellectual productivity, 768 ; charm 
of life, 808 sqq. ; its uniformity, 816 

"American Commonwealths" Series, 
i. 412 

American Constitution. See Constitu- 
tion 

American dislike of humbug, ii. 243 

American experience, incomparable 
significance of, i. 2; applied to 
European problems, 185, 504; ii. 
607-614, 628-631, 710, 711 

American Government. See Federal 
System 

American history, rich in political 
instruction, i. 5 
708-710; American life, its pleasantness, ii. 
803; causes of this, 814; its uni- 
formity, seen in nature, 816; in 'he 
cities, 818; exceptions to ibis, 819; 
want of history, 821; uniformity of 
institutions, 822; of persons, ib.\ 
causes of this, 825; promise of the 
future, 827 
' American oratory, ii. 700. See Ora- 
torical excellence 



pared : in the proportion of first-rate ! American philanthropy, ii. 723 



VOL, II 



881 



3L 



882 



INDEX 



American Protestant Episcopal Church 
and its liturgy, i. 15 

American statesmen, types of, ii. 228 

American Union more than an aggre- 
gate of States, i. 17 

Americans: hopefulness of, an anti- 
dote to grave political dangers, i. 10 ; 
their national characteristics, ii. 281 ; 
good nature, ib. ; humour, 282, 814; 
hopefulness, 282 ; faith in the peo- 
ple, 283, 368, 603; education, 284; 
morality, 285; religion, 286; want 
of reverence, ib. ; business, 287 ; 
want of sustained thought, 288; 
shrewdness, 289, 306; impression- 
ability, 289; unsettledness, ib.; 
sympathy, 290 ; changefulness, 291 ; 
conservatism, ib.; characteristics of 
different classes, 293-306; their in- 
dividualism, 540; speculative char- 
acter, 661 ; salient intellectual feat- 
ures, 760, 768 ; recent developments 
of thought, 777; want of brilliant 
personalities, 779 ; intellectual rela- 
tion to Europe, 781 : opinion of 
themselves, ib.: intellectual prom- 
ise for the future, 789 ; their oratory, 
799; reserve of audiences, 805; 
charm of their character, 813 ; char- 
acter of the Western States, 828; 
future of their political institutions, 
840; growing modesty, 848; social 
and economic future, 854 ; influence 
of immigrants upon them, 862 ; their 
place in the history of the world's 
progress, 869 

Anglo-American race, intrinsic excel- 
lence of, i. 28 ; political genius of, ib. 

Anglophobia, Irish in America retain 
their hereditary, ii. 368 

Annapolis, convention at, 1786, i. 21 

Ann Arbor (Univ. of Michigan), ii. 
674, 689 

Annual letter of Secretary of the 
Treasury, i. 176 

Anson, " Law and Custom of the Con- 
stitution " cited, i. 283 

Appropriation bills, i. 213 

Aristotle quoted, i. 11 

Arizona, Territory of, i. 580, 583, 587 

Arkansas, pronunciation of name of 
State, i. 118; Constitution of, 687 



Arkansas, great canon of river, ii. 649 
Army, control of, i. 33, 53 ; smallness 

of, ii. 525 
" Articles of Confederation and Per- 
petual Union " of 1781, i. 21,22, 380, 

690-696 
Assemblies, modern deliberative, 

comparatively small, ii. 223 
Assessments, levying of on Federal 

officials forbidden, ii. 204 
Athens, Democrats of, i. 196; generals 

of, 217; Assembly, 220; politics in, 

ii. 57, 222, 288, 310 
Arthur, President, ii. 140 
Attorney-General, the, i. 87, 89 

" Back-Pay Grab," the, of 1873, i. 195 
Bagehot, Walter, quoted, i. 287 
Baltimore, City of, election frauds in, 

ii. 103 
Ballot, Australian system in force in 

most of the States, ii. 144, 324 
Balloting in convention, mode of, ii. 197 
Balance of power in the Federal Con- 
stitution, i. 222-227, 400; ii. 266, 267 
Bank, United States, i. 291, 375, 379 
Bar, the American : its influence on 
public opinion, i. 266; on the judi- 
ciary, 508 ; the legal profession undi- 
vided in America, ii. 302, 618, 628; 
no general organization, 622; pro- 
vision for legal education, 623; con- 
servatism of the Bar, 619; decline 
in its political influence, 625 ; and in 
its social position, 626; its moral 
influence, 628; reflections on the 
fusion of the two branches, ib. ; 
forensic oratory, 802 
Beaconsfield Government, i. 287 
Beecher, H. Ward, influence on elec- 
tions, ii. 207, 709 
Belgian courts, referred to, i. 251 
Belgian parliamentary system, i. 93: 

Constitution, 359 
Bemis's " Local Government in Michi- 
gan," i. 606-607 
Bench, the, ii. 632 ; American State, 

ii. 609. See Judiciary 
Bernheim, A.C., on Primary Elections, 

ii. 102 
Best men, why they do go into poli- 
tics, ii. 69-75 



INDEX 



883 



Betting, speculating, etc., li. 662 

Bill of Rights (English), i. 241 

Bill or Declaration of Rights of 17<U, 

embodied in Constitution, i. 28; 

contained germ of civil War, //>.-. 

referred to, 3<5(5. <i l .>7, 7<)t>; in state 

Const it ut ions, 438-442, 711 
Bills, Congressional, always private 

bills, i. 168 
Bills, Government, in England, their 

policy carefully weighed, i. 1(3(5 
Bills, House and Senate, i. 136 
Bishop, J. B., on " Money in City 

Elections," i. ."'43; ii. 168 
Blackstone, Mr. Justice, quoted, i. 29, 

281, 415 
Blaine. J. G.,i.44, 127; ii. 45, 182, 200, 

208, 225. 227 
"Bolters." ii. 329, 333 
"Bosses , " i i . 109-130 : "Bosses v. 

European demagogues, 114; Bosses, 

L66-174, 389, 397, 398, 405 sqq. 
Boston, City of, i. 630; ii. 819, 875 
Boycotting, ii. 339 

Bradford, Mr. Gamaliel, on the nom- 
inating machinery of Massachusetts, 

ii. 87S 
Bribery and corruption, i. 462; ii. 144, 

14(5-149, 150-153, 238, 589, 591, 638 
Bribery in Congress, ii. 164 
Brigandage, ii. 832 
British Colonies, self-governing, i. 93, 

277: governors in, irremovable by 

tbe Colony, 277 
British Columbia, ii. 528, 529 
British immigrants, ii. 34 
Brooklyn, City of, Charter, i. 656: 

population of, and city, referred to, 

682 : bribery in, ii. 147 
Bryn Mawr College for women, ii. 690 
Buchanan. President, i. 84, 338; ii. 157 
Bugbee, J. M., on City Government of 

Boston, i. 630 
Burr, Aaron, i. 47 

Cabinet, the President's, i. 86-96; ii. 

157 

Cabinet, the, system of government, i. 
27'.) sqq. 

Cabinet-government, English, i. 278 
rism, improbability <»f, in Amer- 
ica, i. 68; ii. 574 



Calhoun, John C, i. 84; ii. 14, 177, 802 
California, State of, Constitution, i. 

471, 47(5, 711-724: ii. 186, 437, 623 ; 

character of the State, 425; Kear- 

neyism, 429 sqq, ; 878 
Campaign committees, ii. 83 
Canada, Constitution of, referred to, 

i. 249, 385, 473, (584 ; ii. 137 ; relations 

of, to the United States, 526, 527 
Canada, Supreme Court of, i. 265 
Candidates for office in England now 

mainly chosen by the party organi- 
zations, ii. 81; interrogating them 

for pledges, 326 
Capital, influence of a, upon society, 

ii. 791 ; want of one in the United 

States, ib. ; causes of this, 795; its 

results, 796 
Capitalists, class of, ii. 300, 745 ; at- 
tack upon, 437 
Carlisle, Mr., i. 150 
Carolina, North, State of, i. 2(5, 414, 519 
Carolina, South, i. 43, 197; and State 

rights, i. 389 ; defies Congress, i. 403 
" Carpet-baggers " in the South, i. 349; 

ii. 163, 240, 476 sqq. 
Carthaginian Councils, encroachments 

of, i. 226 
Catholics, Roman, and politics, ii. 699, 

709 
Caucus, Party, in Congress, i. 119, 205, 

206 
Central Pacific R. R., ii. 651 
Chambers, Second, American view of, 

i. 185 ; ii. 610 
Chancery Courts, i. 501 
Charles I. and the English Parliament, 

i. 261 
Charleston, Democratic convention of 

1860, at, ii. 185 
Chase, Mr., i. 88 
Chase, Judge Samuel, impeachment 

of, i. 230, 2(58 
Chicago, City of, Republican national 

convention, of 1880, and 1884, at, ii. 

184 ; of 1860. 222 
Chicago World's Fair Exhibition, of 

L893, inventiveness and taste of the 

buildings of, ii. 788 
Chinese in America, the, i. 724; ii. 41, 

49, 298, 439, 444 : case of indignity 

to, 331 ; attacks on, 335 



884 



INDEX 



Church and State, separation of, in 
America, ii. G01, 695 sqq. ; reasons 
for it, 700; legal position of a 
church, 702; result to religion, 712; 
to society in general, 812 

Churches and clergy, the, ii. 095-713 

Cincinnati, City of, ii. 121 

Circuit Courts, i. 231 

Cities, debts of, i. 526, 636-638 ; their 
relation to townships, 595, 608, 663; 
their growth, 622; their organiza- 
tion, 623 sqq. ; indraught towards 
them from the country, ii. 863. See 
Municipal Government. 

"Citizen's" (or "Independent") 
ticket in voting, ii. 143 

Citizenship of the United States, i. 419, 
709 ; ii. 100 

City governments, necessity for con- 
trol over, i. 537 

Civil Service Reform, i. 646; ii. 27, 59, 
139-141, 161, 609; Act of 1883, 847 

Civil Service, the, ii. 609 

Civil War, what it settled, i. 337. 

Classes in America as influencing opin- 
ion, ii. 293 ; the farmers, 291 ; shop- 
keepers, 296 ; working men, ib. ; city 
residuum, 299; capitalists, 300 ; pro- 
fessional men, 302; literary men, 
304; summary, 305; no class strug- 
gles, 599 

Clay, Henry, i. 47, 70; ii. 12-14, 182, 
2:34, 373 

Clergy, the American, and politics, ii. 
207, 329, 416, 699, 709 ; their equality, 
695 sqq. ; their social standing, 707 

Cleveland, Grover (President), i. 44, 
59, 209 ; ii. 45, 46, 182, 194, 209, 225 

Clinton, Governor, i. 41 ; ii. 132, 176 

Closure of debate in Congress, i. 133- 
136 

Coast survey department, i. 90 

Co-education, ii. 733 

Coinage Act of 1873, i. 180 

Collisions between Congress and Sen- 
ate, i. 186, 188 

Colonists, early, elements of diversity 
as well as of unity among them, i. 24 

Colorado, State of, i. 431, 485, 687 

Columbia Coll., New York, ii. 671, 672 

Columbia, Federal District of, i. 578 ; 
ii. 180 



Commerce Commission, Inter-State, ii. 
647 

Commerce, power of regulating, i. 33 

Commercial distress, 1783-1786, i. 21 

Committee of Appropriations, i. 177, 
179 

" Committee of Conference," i. 187 

Committee of Ways and Means, i. 149, 
176, 179 

Committee on Credentials in party 
conventions, ii. 86, 104 

Committee on Rivers and Harbours, 
i. 177 

Committees of Congress, i. 113, 139, 
149, 154-164, 176, 177 

Common Councils, i. 625 

Commons, House of. See House of 
Commons 

Competitive examinations, ii. 139 

Complexity of American institutions, 
i. 17 

Confederate States, Constitution of 
1861, i. 683 

Confederation of 1781, i. 20, 690 

Congress of 1754 at Albany, i. 19; of 
1765 at New York, 20 ; of 1774-1788 
at Philadelphia, 20, 21, 155 

Congress of the United States, estab- 
lished by the Constitution of 1789, 
i. 35, 36, 697 ; its relation to the 
President, 57, 59, 93, 208-214, 284, 
288; its powers, 61, 699; commit- 
tees, 113, 140, 155, 176, 179 ; criticism 
of its legislation, 168 ; of its finance, 
174 ; the division into two chambers, 
183; their substantial identity of 
character, 184; collisions between 
the two, 186; influence of local feel- 
ing in elections, 189; comparison 
with the English system, 191 ; sala- 
ries of members, 194; short tenure 
of office, 195 : and short duration of 
a Congress, 196: its numbers, 197; 
good attendance of members, 198; 
want of opportunities for distinc- 
tion, 199; absence of leaders, 201; 
party caucuses, 205 ; want of a con- 
sistent policy, 206, 302 ; few open rela- 
tions with the executive, 208 ; control 
over the latter, 210 ; power of the 
purse, 212; cannot dismiss an offi- 
cial, ib. ; and supreme power in the 



INDEX 



885 



government, 2:27 ; the Constitution 

out of the reach of Congress, -\- ; 

statutes passed uftra Ul>e3, 246; pro- 
posed veto on State legislation, 257 ; 
defects in the structure and work- 
ing of Congress summarized, 300 ; its 
relations to the electors, 302; " con- 
current legislation," 328; electoral 
franchise, 395 ; origin of the system, 
070; private bills in Congress, 675; 
"lobbying," 402; ii. 157, 102; how 
far Congress is corrupt, 157; con- 
gressional caucus for the early Pres- 
idential elections, 170 ; checks on the 
tyranny of the majority, 330; con- 
gressional oratory, 802; the future 
of Congress, 845 

Congressional encroachment, distrust 
of, i. 59 

Congressional Record, l. 145 

Congressman, term explained, i. 148 

Conkling, Roscoe, i. 03 

Connecticut, State of, i. 19, 197, 429, 
431, 481, 505, 513 

Constitution (Federal) of 1789, diffi- 
culty of framing it, i. 22 ; an instru- 
ment of compromise, 25 ; opposition 
to its ratification, 20: fear of Euro- 
pean aggression led to its adoption, 
27 : original amendments to, ib. ; 
causes of its excellence, 29; its 
double aspect, 32: the complement 
and crown of the State Constitu- 
tions, 33; functions of government 
it provides for, ib. ; objects of its 
framers, 34, 222, 310, 318: ii. 205; 
creation of two chambers by, i. 183; 
scheme of, tends to put stability 
above activity, 114: oath of alle- 
giance to it, 1, 130 : balance of power 
it provides for, 222, 400 ; ii. 200, 207 ; 
its relation to Congress, i. 242; to 
the Courts, 243 sqq. ; respect felt for 
it, 250, 311; Puritanic element in it, 
'■'yix'r. its success, 310; peculiar distri- 
bution of governmental functions, 
315 : remarkable omissions, 318, 322 ; 
limits the competence of Congress, 
336 : its development, 301 ; by amend- 
ment. :>0+; by interpretation and 
construction, 372; by legislation, 
392; by usage, 393; collisions with 



the executive or legislature, 397; re- 
sults of this development, 400; ser- 
vices of the Constitution to the 

nation. 400; provisions it owes Jo 
State constitutions, 070; the Consti- 
tution given at length, 097-710 

Constitution of California, i. 711 

Constitution of Confederate States of 
1801, i. 083 

Constitution of North American colo- 
nies, i. 19,429; of 1777, 19 

Constitutions of the States, i. 30; their 
history, 427, 477 ; mode of alteration, 
432 ; their real nature, 433 ; their con- 
tents, 430; confusion of provisions, 
443; less capacity for expansion 
than in the Federal Constitution, 
444; their development, 450; types 
of constitutions, 453; their length, 
454; growth of democratic tenden- 
cies, 455 ; comparative frequency of 
change, 450; jealousy of officials, 
459 : protection of private property, 
ib. ; extension of State interference, 
401 ; penalties not always enforced, 
ib.: legislation by a Constitution, 
403 ; its demerits and its advantages, 
472 : constitutional conventions, 470 

Constitutions, rigid or written, i. 30, 
35, 30, 37, 00, 00, 101, 300, 383, 397, 
402,405, 407, 080; ii. 595, 010; con- 
trasted with flexible constitutions, 
i. 300, 396 

Constitutional Amendments, i. 27, 55, 
101, 120, 235, 329, 364-371, 409, 695, 
700-710 

Constitutional Conventions. See Con- 
ventions 

Continental Congress of 1774 at Phila- 
delphia, i. 19 

Convention (Constitutional) of 1780 at 
Annapolis, i. 21 ; of 1787 at Phila- 
delphia, 22-24, 30, 95, 183, 215, 223, 
282, 312, 325, GG7-0G9; ii. 5, 207; of 
different States, i. 20, 27, 0G7-0G9 

Conventions, Note on Constitutional, 
i. 007; nominating, ii. 82, 104,875; 
National, 82; their evolution, 175, 
220 ; composition, 178 ; working, 181 ; 
objects, 185; classes of aspirants, 
187; complexity of their motives, 
189; preliminary work, ib.; open- 



INDEX 



ing of the Convention, 190 ; the vot- 
ing, 196 ; effect of the system upon 
public life, 221 ; their tempestuous 
character, 222 

Cooley, T. M. (Judge), quoted, i. 55, 
309, 313, 336, 339, 375, 383, 399, 681 

Cooley's " Constitutional Limita- 
tions," quoted, i. 233, 446, 448, 470, 

526, 555, 681 

Cooley's "History of Michigan," 

cited, i. 383, 404 
Cooley's " Principles of Constitutional 

Law," quoted, i. 233, 236, 314, 420 
"Copperheads," the, ii. 32 
Copyright, i. 33; International, ii. 324- 

325, 774 
Cornell University, Ithaca, ii. 671, 672 
Corporations in America, i. 449, 715; 

ii. 855 
Corruption, ii. 154-165, 238. See 

Bribery 
County organization, i. 597, 598, 599, 

604, 608, 611 ; ii. 876 
Courtesy of the Senate, i. 62 
Court of Claims, i. 239 
Creative intellectual power, ii. 767. 

See Intellectual productivity 
" Croker Correspondence," the, i. 280 
Currency, control of the, i. 33; cur- 
rency question, a source of disquiet, 

ii. 356 

Dakota, State of, i. 125, 442, 486, 554, 

584 
" Dark Horse," meaning of the term, 

ii. 187 ; referred to, 200 
Dartmouth College v. Woodward, i. 686 
Darwin, the " struggle for existence," 

and political strife, i. 401 
Debt, National, i. 176, 181; public 

debts of States, 523, 723; of cities, 

527, 637 

Declaration of Independence, the i. 30, 

92,307,438; ii. 357, 551 
Deficiency Bill, i. 179 
Degrees and examinations, Univer- 
sity, ii. 678 
Delaware, State of, i. 124, 414, 439, 486 
Demagogues, influence of, ii. 578 
Democracies, and the control of foreign 
policy, i. 107, 221, 343; charged with 
fickleness, 456; and the judiciary, 



504 ; ii. 636 ; " rotation in office," 133; 
may be tested by the statesmen pro- 
duced, 228 ; the strength of popular 
government: its excellence, 260; 
two dangers to which it is exposed, 
ib. ; safeguards against these, 261; 
its educative power, ib.; democracy 
and State interference, 540 sqq. ; 
chief faults attributed to democra- 
cies, 563 ; how far these are present 
in America, 564; their true faults, 
581-593; how far observable in 
America, 584 ; necessity of reverence 
and self-control, 727 ; effect of social 
equality upon manners, 754; on 
thought, 757 sqq.; profusion of 
speech due to democracy, 801; not 
rightly charged with producing uni- 
formity of character, 835 

Democracy in America, and the judi- 
ciary, i. 504, 510; and rotation in 
office, ii. 133 ; tested by the states- 
men it produces, 228 sqq. ; its edu- 
cative influence, 366; its supposed 
faults examined, 563; weakness, 
564; fickleness, 565; insubordina- 
tion, 566 ; jealousy of greatness, 574 ; 
tyranny of the majority, 576; love 
of novelty, 577; influence of dema- 
gogues, 578 ; its true faults, 581 sqq. ; 
its merits, 594; stability, ib.; obe- 
dience to law, 596; consistency of 
political ideas, 597; restrictions on 
officials, 598; no class struggles, 599, 
603; energetic use of natural re- 
sources, 601; latent vigour of the 
government, 602 ; spirit of frater- 
nity, 604; application of American 
experience to Europe, 607-614; in- 
fluence of democracy on the position 
of women, 742; spirit of equality, 
744, 797 ; its influence on manners, 
754; influence of democracy on 
American thought, 761 sqq.; on the 
pleasantness of life, 810; on uni- 
formity, 825 ; its future, 840 ; democ- 
racy and the approaching economic 
struggle, 851 

Democratic party, the, of 1793 (or 
Republicans), i. 42; ii. 6; of 1829, 
i. 268; ii. 12, 16, 18-21, 26-10, 180; 
intelligent adherents of, 33 



[NDEX 



88' 



Denominational Census (1890), Li. 7<)i. 

71S 
Desty's " Constitution Annotated," 

quoted, i. 029 

Dicey'a "Law of the Constitution,'' 
quoted, i. 844 

Distinguished men, want of, in Amer- 
ica, i. 78-85, 200, 201 ; ii. 51, 69 sqq., 
235, 591, 613, 770 

District Courts, i. 231 

Divisions in Congress, mode of taking, 
i. 132 

Divorce in the United States, increas- 
ing : more frequent in the West, ii. 
724 

Domestic service, aversion of Ameri- 
cans to enter, ii. 752 

Died Scott decision, i. 253, 263, 269, 
380 ; ii. 14, 15 

Eaton, D. B., on " Primary Elec- 
tions," ii. 102 

Education, Bureau of, i. 90, 614 

Education, legal, provision for, ii. 623 

Education, public, in America, i. 460, 
617 ; higher education and politics, ii. 
252: public, ii. 284, 316, 663 sqq., 
729. 740 

Elections, influence of local feeling 
in, i. 189-193; question of annual 
elections, 197 ; winning of the work 
of politics, ii. 02; their machinery, 
142 sqq. ; fraudulent practices, 145- 
153, 210-212, 240, 591 ; cost of elec- 
tions, 127 ; a corrupt district of New 
York State, 148; machinery in 
Massachusetts, 737 ; elections the in- 
strument of government by public 
opinion, 325 

Elections, Presidential, i. 38,72, 298; 
nominating conventions, ii. 175 : the 
campaign, 203; enthusiasm evoked, 
224 : disputed election of 1876, 595 

Eliot, C. W., on the material develop- 
ment of the United States, ii. 601 

Elliott's "Debates," quoted, i. 22, 23, 
24, 26, 28, 41, 95, 102. Ill, 196, 256, 
27'.', 360 

Emerson, K. W., quoted, ii. 866 

England, former American hatred of, 
i. - J4 : ii. 785; growing friendliness 
to, 527, 785 



England and America compared; the 
judiciary, i. 35, 220, 240, 273; ii. 632 ; 
Parliamentary system, i. 35,50,80, 
93, 07. 98, L21, 129 sqq., 136, 137. 147, 
140. 165, 107, 201, 277, 473; royal 
prerogative. 56, 59, 70, 74, 127, 197; 
elections, i. 71, 74, 127, 192; ii. 77. 
90, 172, 218; the cabinet, i. 80, 
89, 90; parties, 140; ii. 21, 39, 137: 
finance, i. 174; whips, 202; inter- 
pretation of statutes, 250, 259, 264 ; 
relations of executive and legisla- 
ture, 277: universities, 682; ii. 000 ; 
"referendum," i. 467; municipal 
government, 570, 575; counties, 
597, 612 ; sanitation, 617 ; politicians, 
ii. 55, 61, 70: corruption, 163, 238; 
political morality, 241 ; public opin- 
ion, 247, 250, 268, 270 sqq., 317 sqq., 
371 ; classes, 293 ; government inter- 
ference, 541 sqq. ; the Bar, 617 ; power 
of wealth, 749; intellectual produc- 
tivity, 771, 778; liberty, 782; ora- 
tory, 799 

English Acts of Parliament, mode of 
interpretation by the judges, i. 251 

English borough-owning magnates, ii. 
235 

English common and statute law, 
taken by the United States as 
a model, i. 346 

English Constitution, referred to, i. 
29, 30, 31, 34, 35, 39, 51, 56, 60, 174, 
216, 241, 254, 258, 277, 360, 387, 393, 
396, 402, 445 ; ii. 283 

English counties, formerly indepen- 
dent kingdoms, now local adminis- 
trative areas, i. 16 

English Crown, antiquity of, i. 210 ; 
independent part of the Constitu- 
tion, 219 

English kings, formerly present in 
Parliament, i. 209 

English moralities in public life, ii. 
241,243 

English Parliament, omnipotent, i. 
242; cited, ii. 318 

English parties, ii. 22 

Equality, senses of the word, ii. 744; 
inequality of wealth in America, 
ib. ; social equality, 747; effect on 
manners, 754; its charm, 810 



888 



LXDEX 



Equalization, Board of, i. 514, 629 

European aggression, fear of, i. 27 

European statesmen, representative 
types, ii. 231 

European travellers, and the. study of 
the State Governments of America, 
i.411 

Exchequer, Chancellor of (English), 
his budget, i. 174 

Executive, American : influence of 
public opinion on it, ii. 266 ; its la- 
tent vigour, 602. See Cabinet, Pres- 
ident, Senate 

Executive and Legislative depart- 
ments, separated by the American 
Constitution, i. 90, 91, 178, 208 sqq., 
215 sqq.; their relations under the 
European cabinet system, 277 sqq. ; 
struggles between them in England, 
287; and in America, 288; results of 
their separation, 292 ; danger of 
making legislature supreme, i. 664; 
separation not essential to democ- 
racy, ii. 587 



Farmers' Alliance, the, i. 573; ii. 41, i 
44 

Farmers in America, characteristics 
of, ii. 293 

Fatalism of the multitude, ii. 344, 349 

" Favourite," meaning of the term, ii. 
187 

" Favourite Son," ii. 187 

Federal Courts. See Judiciary (Fed- 
eral) 

Federal Government, the: its chief 
functions, i. 33, 316 ; limitations on 
its powers, 36, 37, 317; its several 
departments: the President, 38; 
Cabinet, 86; Senate, 96; House of 
Representatives, 124 ; the legislature 
and executive, 215 ; the judiciary, 
228; "concurrent powers," 316; 
working relations with the State 
governments, 325; intervention in 
disturbances, 330; its relations to 
individual citizens, 330 ; cases of re- 
sistance, 334; coercion of a State 
impossible, .'v38: the determination 
of its powers, 378; lines of their 
development, 380; results of the 
latter, 400 



Federalist partv, the, i. 42, 92, 337; ii. 
6-12, 176 

Federalist, The, quoted, i. 30, 87, 112, 
191, 197, 198, 229, 235, 255, 282, 393 

Federal System of America, the; its 
main features, i. 312; distribution 
of powers, 313, 697 sqq. ; omissions 
in the Constitution, 322 ; indestructi- 
bility of the Union, 323; working of 
the system, 325; criticism of it, 342; 
its merits, 350; causes of its stabil- 
ity, 357 ; dominance of the central- 
izing tendencies, 403; its future, ii. 
328, 684 

Federal System of Canada, i. 684 

Federal System of the English Uni- 
versities, i. 682 

Federal Union of 1789, parallels to, 
i. 23 

Federation, faults attributed to, i. 342 ; 
their merits as illustrated by Amer- 
ica, 350 

Female Suffrage. See Woman Suffrage. 

" Fifteenth Amendment," i. 126, 318, 
327, 710 

Financial bills in England, i. 174; 
mode of passing them in America, 
176-180; results of the system, 180; 
reason for it, 180 ; flourishing finan- 
cial condition of America, 181 ; yearly 
surpluses, 181 ; the paying off of the 
national debt, 181 ; State finance, 
512-527 

Fletcher v. Peck, i. 257 

Florida, sale of, by Spain, i. 27; Con- 
stitution of, 497 

Foreign relations, control of, i. 33,53, 
106-109 ; discontinuity of policy, 71 ; 
difficulty of control by popular as- 
semblies, 220 ; division of powers in 
America, 224 ; faults due to the Fed- 
eral system, 342 ; influence of public 
opinion, ii. 371; and territorial ex- 
tension, 521; and of the American 
spirit of fraternity, 605 

Forensic oratory, ii. 802. See Orator- 
ical excellence 

France, sale of Louisiana by, i. 27; 
intellectual relations to America, ii. 
785 

Franklin, Benjamin, i. 22, 194 

Fraternity, spirit of, in America, ii. 605 



tNDEX 



880 



Freedom of discussion in America, 
ii. ;io0 

Freeman, Prof. E. A., quoted, i. 72 

Free trade and protection, i. 170; ii. 
26, 47 

Free Traders, ii. 48 

" Free Soilers *' party, ii. 14, 30 

Fremont, General, ii. 14, 178 

French Canadians in New England, i. 
595; ii. 8t>, :>t)7 

French Chamber, ii. 22-'l 

French Constitution and Government 
referred to, i. 60, 74, 91, 197, 221, 244, 
250,287, 871; ii. 258 

French Constitution of 1791, referred 
to, i. (30, 295 

French Senate, i. 97, 197 

Fundamental orders of Connecticut, 
of 1638, the oldest political Consti- 
tution in America, i. 429 

Future, the intellectual, of America, 
ii. 779, 780 

Future, the. of American political in- 
stitutions, ii. 840; of the Federal 
system, ib. ; of Congress, the execu- 
tive, the judiciary, 844; of the 
Presidency, 845 ; of the party system, 
840; of the spoils system and the 
machine, ib. ; the democracy and the 
approaching economic struggle for 
existence, 850 

Future, the social and economic, of 
America, ii. 854; great fortunes, ib. ; 
corporations, 856; changes in popu- 
lation, 858; the negroes, 859; ques- 
tion of the evolution of an American 
type of character, 861, 862 ; tendency 
towards city life, 863 ; the develop- 
ment of an aristocracy improbable, 
866 : future of literature and 
thought, 866; of other elements of 
civilization, 868 

Gallatin. Albert, i. 89 

Garfield, J. A. (President), i. 46, 52, 

63, 64, 192; ii. 138, 182. 188, 200 
General Court of Massachusetts, i. 

539 
General election in England, a period 

of disturbance, i. 71 
"Genera] Ticket" system of voting, 

i. 48 



George 111. and English pocket bor- 
oughs, i. 281 : and "place," ii. 134 

George, Henry, the Labour party can- 
didate for mayor, ii. 42; referred 
to, 24S 

Georgia, State of, i. 183, 235, 258, 269; 
and the Supreme Court, i. 408; and 
pensions, 513; and a second cham- 
ber, 670 

German Constitution, referred to, i. 
220; ii. 258 

Germanic Confederation, i. 16, 350; ii. 
332 

German immigrants in America, ii. 34, 
35, 36, 299, 786 

Germany and America, intellectual 
relation of, ii. 787 

Gerry, Elbridge, i. 124 

Gilman, President (Johns Hopkins 
University), on degrees for women, 
ii. 678 

Goschen, Mr., on laissezfaire, ii.540 

Government, forms of, in free coun- 
tries, i. 277; ii. 264; their influence 
upon national character, ii. 365, 758 
j Governors, State. See State Execu- 
tive 
| Granger movement, the, ii. 435, 646 
| Grant, U. S. (President), i. 45, 46, 64, 
68, 78, 84, 214, 276 ; ii. 182, 370 

Great men, why not chosen as Presi- 
dents, i. 78, sqq. 

Greece, ancient, constitutions of, re- 
ferred to, i. 23, 36, 72, 217, 220, 259, 
361, 368, 574; ii. 150, 222, 265 

Greeley, Horace, ii. 178, 273 

Greenbackers, the (party of), ii. 39, 
40, 41, 44, 47, 212 

Guelfs and Ghibellines, wars of, ii. 24 

Habeas Corpus, suspension of, i. 55. 
Hamilton, Alexander, i. 23, 25, 30, 39, 

47, 63, 89, 92, 99, 100, 111, 208, 229, 

235, 667 : ii. 6-8, 11, 14, 19, 33, 222, 

234 
Hanseatic League, i. 16, 350, 575 
Hare's " American Constitutional 

Law," quoted, i. 338, 379. 387 
Harrington, author of "Oceana," 

quoted, i. 87, 103 
Harrison, Benjamin (President), ii. 

183 



890 



INDEX 



Hart, Prof. A. B., "Practical Essays 
on American Government," ii. 151 

Hartford Convention of 1814, i. 388 : ii. 
11 

Hartington, Lord, ii. 221 

Harvard University, ii. 070 

Hastings, Warren, i. 50 

Hawaii, Constitution of, i. 081; re- 
lations of the island to the United 
States, ii. 532-533 

Hawaii, rising of 1892, ii. 533 

Hayes, R. B. (President), i. 48-50, 214, 
330 ; ii. 139 

Henry, Patrick, i. 307 

Hereditary titles, i. 701 ; ii. 753 

History, its services to politics, ii. 
607 

Hitchcock's "State Constitutions'' 
quoted, i. 554; ii. 650 

Holker, Lord Justice, case of, i. 271 

Home of the Nation, the, ii. 449-468 ; , 
phenomena, racial, climatic, and [ 
economical, of the New World, 449 ; 
relation of geographical conditions 
to national growth, 450 ; influence of 
physical environment, 451 ; physical 
characteristics, 452 ; climate an his- 
torical factor, 453; aridity of the 
West, 454; influence of early colo- 
nial and frontier life on the national 
character, ib. ; early European set- 
tlements in America, 455; settle- 
ment of the Mississippi basin and 
the unity of the nation, 457; easy 
acquisition of the Pacific coast, pre- 
viously held in the feeble power of 
Mexico, 458, 459; wealth and pros- 
perity of the South dependent upon 
slave labour, 459; imperilled unity 
of the South, ib. ; the chief natural 
sources of wealth. — fertile soils, min- 
eral wealth, and standing timber, 
460 ; varieties of soil, 461 ; mineral 
resources, 461, 462 ; industrial popu- 
lation increasing faster than the 
agricultural, 462; geography and 
commerce point to one nation, 463; 
with a vast home trade, free trade 
with foreign countries of little conse- 
quence, ib. ; railways and inter-state 
commerce unifying influences, 464; j 
assimilating power of language, in- 1 



stitutions, and ideas, ib. ; unpeopled 
gaps narrowing daily, ib. ; dialectic 
variations over the Union few, 465 ; 
immigration and climate may in 
time create differences in national 
and physical types, 405, 466; aver- 
age duration of life and physical 
well-being, 466, 407 ; the nation sov- 
ereign of its own fortunes, 468 ; im- 
munity from foreign aggression, ib. ; 
immense defensive strength and 
material prosperity, ib. 

Homicide condoned in some States, ii. 
507, 636 

Honourable, title of, i. 129 

House of Commons (English), referred 
to, i. 61, 98, 99, 108, 115, 130, 136, 137, 
147, 100, 174, 184, 197, 198, 199, 202, 
210, 279, 285, 299; ii. 55, 221, 223. 
See Parliament 

House of Lords, referred to, i. 61, 97, 
99, 115, 118, 119, 121, 184, 187, 197, 
199, 273, 285, 288 ; ii. 55. See Parlia- 
ment 

Howard on " Local Constitutional His- 
tory of the United States," i. 599 

Hume (David), "Essays," referred to, 
i. 24; ii. 19 

Hyde Park (London), meetings in, ii. 



Idaho, Territory of, i. 125, 441, 461, 585 

Illinois, State of, i. 481, 601, 607 

Immigrants in America, i. 24; ii. 34, 
299, 858; pounced upon by voting 
agents, 99 ; influence of public opin- 
ion upon them, 367; their influence 
upon the national character, 801 : 
restrictions upon immigration, 8(i3 

Impeachment of executive officers, i. 
50, 91, 211, 500; of judges, 110, 230, 
558 

Indian affairs, i. 89, 269, 578 ; ii. 371 

Indian Territory (west of Arkansas), i. 
97, 578 ; ii. 180 

Indiana, State of, i. 414 

Individualism, spirit of, in America, 
ii. 539 

Individuals and Assemblies, combats 
between, i. 226 

Influence of religion, the, in America, 
ii. 714-727 



INDEX 



891 



intellectual eminence, position ac- 
corded to, ii. Tol 
Intellectual productivity, conditions 

of, ii. 7ti;> sqq.] how far existing in 
America, 770: recent developments 
of American thought, 777; promise 
for the future, 789, 869 
Intellectual relation of America to 

Europe, ii. 781-790 
Interior, Secretary of the, i. 8t>, 89 
Interpretation of the Constitution, i. 
372; the interpreting authorities, 
374; judicial principles of interpre- 
tation and construction, 376; lines 
of development of implied powers, 
381 ; development by the executive 
and Congress, 382; checks on the 
process, 385; its important results, 
387-390 
Iowa, State of, i. 415, 518, 608 
Irish in America, the, i. 24; ii. 34-36, 

300, 368, 858 
Irish draft riots, of 1863, ii. 603 
Irish Parliament, placemen in, i. 225 
Irish vote, the, ii. 156 
Isle of Man, Constitution of, i. 219 
Italian labour vote in America, ii. 99 
Italian ministers, usually members of 

Parliament, i. 87 
Italian Parliamentary system, i. 93 
Italian representative chambers, i. 187 ; 
Italian members of, and free rail- 
way passes, ii. 159 
Italian Senate, i. 187 

Jackson, Andrew (President), i. 56, 
6(i, 268, 291, 375, 394; ii. 132, 177, 373 

Jackson, Mrs. Helen, appeals on behalf 
of the Indians, ii. 372 

Jameson on "Constitutional Conven- 
tions," i. 365 

Jefferson, Thomas (President), i. 30, 
45, 47, 57, 77, 78, 85, 88, 89, 92, 209, 
268, 275, 337, 375, 382, 426; ii. 6-12, 
33, 131, 176, 234, 373 

Jefferson's " Manual of Parliamentary 
Practice," i. 142 

Jersey, New, State of, i. 430 

Johns Hopkins University, ii. 669 

Johnson, Andrew (President), 51, 56, 
.7.1. 61, 122, 188, 200, 211, 213, 27U, 291 

•Johnson, Keverdy, treaty of 1869, i. 107 I 



Joint stock companies, ii. 655 

Judiciary, American, general remarks 
on, ii. 609, 632-642 

Judiciary, English, independence of, 
i. 258 

Judiciary (Federal), the, i. 35, 703; 
cases of impeachment, 110; Federal 
courts a necessary part of the gov- 
ernment, 228, 246; Supreme Court, 
229 ; Circuit courts, 231 ; District 
courts, ib. ; Court of Claims, ib. ; 
their jurisdiction, 231-237; proced- 
ure, 236; working of the system, 
238; separation of the judicial from 
the executive and legislative depart- 
ments, 239; necessity for its crea- 
tion, 245 ; the Courts do not control 
the legislature, but interpret the 
law, 252 ; importance of their func- 
tions, 253; the system not novel, 
255; its success, 256; not peculiar 
to a Federal government, 259; the 
Courts and politics, 261 ; salutary 
influence of the Bar, 265; conflict 
with other authorities, 267; weak 
point in the constitution of the Su- 
preme Court, 270, 275, 305 ; superior- 
ity of Federal Circuit and District 
judges, 271 ; State judiciary ill-paid, 
ib.; corruption and partisanship 
rare, 272 ; Supreme Court ' feels the 
touch of public opinion,' 273; value 
of the Federal courts to the country, 
271 ; degree of strength and stability 
possessed by them, 272; indepen- 
dence of, 305; their relation to the 
State courts, 332; mode of inter- 
preting the Constitution, 373; de- 
velopment of their powers, 402; 
character of the Bench, ii. 634; 
freedom from corruption, 638; its 
future, 642 

Judiciary (State), the, i. 35; nature of 
its authority, 446; principles of 
action, 447 ; variety of courts, 501 ; 
jurisdiction, 502; attempts at codi- 
fication, 503; powers of judges, 504; 
mode of appointment, lb. ; tenure of 
office, 506; salaries, ib.; character 
of the bench, 507; amount of inde- 
pendence, 556; local judiciary in 
Illinois, 604; city judges, 626; 



INDEX 



American State Bench, ii. 609, 638: 
charges of corruption, 639 

Kearneyism in California, ii. 425- 
448, 878 

Kent's "Commentaries" quoted, i. 231, 
447, 480 

Kentucky legislature, on the Consti- 
tution and Sedition and Alien Acts, 
i. 335 ; on the tariff of 1798, 337 ; on 
life and property, 440; on child 
labour, 460 

Knights of Labour, ii. 41, 297 

" Know-nothing" party, ii. 14, 17, 291 

Knox, Henry, Mass., i. 92 

Ku Klux Klan outrages, i. 349 

Labour party, ii. 41, 297, 856 

Labour troubles, ii. 600 

Laissez /aire, policy of, i. 340; ii. 20, 
27, 535-548 

Laws, American, four kinds of, i. 218; 
their want of uniformity, 345 

Lawyers in America, ii. 302, 303, 625. 
See Bar (American) 

Lea, Henry C, quoted,, ii. 422 

Lectures in America, ii. 805 

Legal issues, their importance in Con- 
gress, i. 88 

Legal Profession. See Bar 

Legal Tender Acts, i. 248, 270, 276, 315 

Legislation in America: the Presi- 
dent's part in it, i. 56; tests of its 
excellence, 165; applied to English 
legislation, 166; and to American, 
168; criticism of the method of 
direct legislation by the people, 463 ; 
ii. 611 

Legislation, special, distinguished from 
general, i. 217; an evil in America, 
536, 552, 553, 641, 660, 663 

Legislative intervention, chief forms 
of, ii. 542 

Legislative power, supreme, rests with 
the people, i. 250, 463 sqq. ; ii. 611 

Legislature and Executive. See Ex- 
ecutive 

Legislature (Federal). See Congress 

Legislature (State). See State Legis- 
latures 

Legislatures (City) . See Municipal 
government 



Levermore's "Town and City Govern- 
ment of New Haven " quoted, i. 627 
Lewis, Sir G. Cornewall, ii. 229 
" Liberty " party, ii. 14 
Liliuokalani, Queen, ii. 533 
Lincoln, Abraham (President), i. 52, 
55, 64, 73, 78, 84, 85, 101, 187, 269, 
296, 365, 398, 422 ; ii. 15, 67, 236, 282, 
364, 373 

Liquor prohibition, i. 571 ; ii. 25 

Literary men in America, ii. 304 

Literature, American, ii. 764; compar- 
ative want of creative power, 768; 
causes of this, 771 ; recent develop- 
ments of thought, 777 ; relation to 
Europe, 783 ; promise for the future, 
790; influence of a capital on, 792 

" Lobby," the, i. 462, 677 ; ii. 158, 162 

Local feeling, strength of, i. 81, 82, 
189-193 ; 482, 544, 591 

Local government, types of, in Amer- 
ica, i. 589, 611 ; township type, 590, 
611 ; county type, 597 ; mixed type, 
593, 600; instance of Illinois, 601; 
of Michigan, 605 ; of Iowa, 608 ; of 
Pennsylvania, ib. ; control over local 
authorities, 613; taxation, 614; ab- 
sence of representation, 615; chief 
functions of local government, 616 ; 
influence of party spirit, 619; sim- 
plicity of the system, 620; govern- 
ment of cities, 622 (see Municipal 
government) ; character of the 
statesmen produced by the system, 
ii. 231 

Local option, i. 472 

Local self-government, advantages of, 
i. 351 ; ii. 611 

Locke on " Civil Government," i. 282 

Logan, General, ii. 200 

Log-rolling, ii. 158 

London, indifference to voting, ii. 320 

Long Parliament (England), the, i. 
218 

Lord Chancellor (English) , powers of, 
i. 98; on woolsack, 118 

Louisiana (French territory, west of 
the Mississippi), i. 27, 55, 382; ii. 11 

Louisiana, State of, i. 55, 388, 439; 
code of, i. 503, 513; rings and job- 
bery, ii. 123 

Louisville (Kentucky), ii. 123 



INDEX 



893 



Low, Honourable Seth, on " Municipal 
Government in the V ■ s.,' - i. 044, 
650-666 

Lowell. J. R.. and the "'White House," 
ii. 138 

Lowe, Robert, referred to, ii. 563 

Luther v. Borden, i. 55 

Lynch law, i. 339; ii. 507 

Machine, the, its organization, ii. 82; 
what it has to do, 90: its working 
and results, 07 ; the desire for office 
its source of power. 107 : Rings and 
Bosses its inner springs, ib. ; Ma- 
chines of Xew York City, 152; the 
Straggle against it, 100-174, 300; 
popular opinion of it, 241 ; the Ma- 
chine in the South, 314 ; unscrupu- 
lous men who work it, 3(53 ; the nom- 
inating machinery' in Massachusetts, 
875 ; how far it is due to democracy, 
580 : its future. 840. Soe under Party 
Organization, also under Tammany 
Ring 

Machinery of American Government, 
to Europeans conspicuous by its 
absence, i. 18 

McKinley Tariff Act of 1890, ii. 48 

Macy, Professor, on " Our Govern- 
ment," i. 608,611 

Madison, James (President), i. 23, 30, 
03,78,88,451; ii. 8, 132 

Magua Charta, i. 241, 447 

Majority, power of the, in America, 
ii. 335-343, 340, 340 

Manhood Suffrage, ii. 008 

Manx constitution, referred to, i. 210 

Manitoba, Can., ii. 528 

Marshall, John (Chief-Justice), i. 63, 
235-237, 245, 254, 207, 208, 274, 375, 
378 sqq., 384-385 

Marshall's "Life of "Washington," 
quoted, i. 300 

Marriage laws, i. 340 

Maryland, State of, i. 43, 103, 414, 
442 

Massachusetts, State of, i. 20, 28, 428, 
441, 452, 530, 539, 574: ii. 03, 875 

Mayoralty, the, and its powers, i. 023, 
658 

"Mean Whites," ii. 314 

Merchant Guilds, English, i. 427 



Mexico and the United States, L343; 
ii. 522, 529-332 

Mexico, New, Territory of, i. 586 
Michigan. State of, i. 43, 605; and t lw 

ballot, ii. 144 
Militia, the, i. 53, 700, 700 
Militarism, freedom from, ii. 525, 574 
Millionaires, ii. 855 

Ministers, the President's' See Cabinet 
Minneapolis, rings and bosses in, ii. 
123, 124; St. Paul and, rivalry be- 
tween, 830 
Minnesota, State of, ii. 171 
Minorities under government by pub- 
lic opinion, ii. 200, 347 
Minoritv representation in cities, i. 

020; ii. 327 
Mirabeau, quoted, i. 114 
Mississippi, State of, Constitution, i. 

439, 441, 400 
Missouri, compromise of 1820, i. 204; 

ii. 12, 13, 14 
Missouri, Constitution of, i. 525 
Missouri, State of, ii. 12 ; rings in, 127 
Moderator of a Town-meeting, i. 594 
Molly Maguire conspiracy, ii. 50!) 
Money in City Elections, i. 543; ii. 108. 

See Bishop, J. B. 
Monopolies, hostility to, in State Con- 
stitutions, ii. 575 
Monroe, James .(President), i. 88; ii. 

7, 12, 170, 523, 524 
Montana, State of, i. 125, 584 
Montesquieu, referred to, i. 29, 282 
More, Sir Thomas, his " Utopia," 

quoted, i. 521 
Mormons, the, ii. 37, 38, 590, 099, 722 
Morris, Gouverneur, i. 279 
Mugwumps, the, ii. 45, 40, 50, 314 
Municipal Government in America : its 
organization, i. 023; the mayor, ib. : 
aldermen and Common Council, 02-1 ; 
judges, 020; nature of its functions, 
028; municipal system of Boston, 
630; of St. Louis, 033; tests of 
efficiency, 035; case of Philadelphia, 
030; the system a conspicuous fail- 
ure, 037; nature of the evil, 039: its 
causes, ib. : remedies proposed. 644 ; 
Hon. Serb Low on municipal govern- 
ment, 050 ; system of Brooklyn, 054 ; 
problem of the legislative branch of 



894 



INDEX 



city government, 663 ; tendency 
towards improvement, 664; corrup- 
tion, ii. 163, 390; efforts of reformers, 
172, 403 

National character and tendencies, 
i. 3 

National Debt. See Debt 

National Nominating Conventions. 
See Conventions 

Nations and small communities, types 
of relationship between, i. 16 

Naturalization laws, i. 419; ii. 99 

Navy, control of the, i. 33, 53 

Navy, Secretary of the, i. 86 

Nebraska, State of, 101 

Negro, the, present and future of, 
ii. 491-520; physical conditions in 
the South favourable to his de- 
velopment, 491, 492; proportion of 
coloured to the white population, 
492 ; the negro, save in two States, a 
relatively decreasing element, ib.; 
infant mortality, ib. ; economic and 
industrial condition, 493; poorest 
and lowest social stratum, ib. ; occu- 
pation best suited to the blacks, ib. ; 
from the slaveship to the plantation, 
495; political rights thrust prema- 
turely upon them, ib. ; character 
and gifts of the negro, 496; edu- 
cational status, 497, 498; illiteracy, 
ib. ; religion formerly the only 
civilizing influence, 499 ; religion 
and morality often divorced, 500 ; 
industry a means of self-help, 501 ; 
need of provision for instructing the 
negro in handicraft, 502; insanity 
and crime, 502 ; his social status 
before and after the war contrasted, 
504 ; no social intermixture between 
races, ib. ; intermarriage forbidden 
by law, 505 ; new coloured genera- 
tion lost its instinctive subservience 
and dependence, 506; strained re- 
lations, white women and negro lust, 
ib.; social repulsion and lynchings, 
507 ; race antagonism and the politi- 
cal problem, 508, 509 ; the whites 
and electoral malpractices, 510 ; the 
question of negro disfranchisement, 
511,512; proposed educational test, 



512; graver social problems, 513; 
deportation impracticable, 515, 516 ; 
setting the negro apart inexpedient. 
516 ; " miscegenation," 517 ; the 
future likely to confine him to the 
'Black Belt ' and the Gulf region, 
518; potency of moral remedies, 520 
Negroes, condition of the, ii. 316 ; their 

future, 859 
Negro vote, the, i. 25, 44; ii. 37, 129, 

144, 147, 315 
Nevada, State of, i. 125, 588 
New England States, usually Repub- 
lican, i. 82 
New Hampshire, State of, i. 439; ii. 

147 
New Haven (Connecticut), Town and 

City of, i. 596, 627 
New Jersey and independence of Eng- 
land, i. 430 
New Mexico, i. 583 

New Orleans, " rings " in, ii. 130 ; at- 
tractive history, 820 
Newspaper Press, the, ii. 271, 275 ; re- 
wards to owners or editors of, 272 ; 
influence as organs of opinion, 775 
New York, City of, i. 629, 638, 663; ii. 

114, 147, 152, 163, 639, 657, 820 
New York commissioners of 1876, on 
the city's misgovernment, i. 639 sqq. 
New York, State of, i. 24, 26, 98, 125, 

462,564: ii. 126 
Nominating Conventions. See Con- 
ventions 
Nominations, winning of, ii. 62; nomi- 
nations to office, cost of, 119; obser- 
vations on, 220 
North-west, most populous section of 
the Union, i. 81 ; usuallv Republican, 
82 
North-western man, prima facie the 
best candidate for the Presidency, i. 
82 
Norway, and its indifference to poli- 
tics, ii. 57 

Oath of allegiance to the Constitu- 
tion, i. 130 

Obligations, Public, regard for, ii. 597 

Ohio, State of (executive officials of), 
i. 498, 499: ii. 90, 171, 211 

Oklahoma Territory, i. 580, 586 



INDEX 



805 



Opinion, Public its strength, ii. 287; 
its nature, 247: stages of formation, 
to.; opinion in the educated and un- 
educated classes compared, 251 ; 

leaders of opinion, 253; not a new 

force in the world. 255; difference 
between free and despotically gov- 
erned states, 257 : evolution of opin- 
ion. 258; government by it, 260, '-'tit!; 
its dangers, 260: and safeguards, 261 
Opinion, Public, in America, the ulti- 
mate force in government, i. 7; the 
real source of the President's power, 
66 : its influence on the Supreme 
Federal Court, 273; on the interpre- 
tation of the Constitution, 386; on 
the State judiciary, 508 ; on the pro- 
fessional politicians, ii. 68; its char- 
acter on the whole upright, 237, 363; 
its powerf ulness, 247: American 
opinion of various features of their 
politicalsystem,239 ; government by, 
255; nature of its rule, 263; causes 
of its importance. 267: the conse- 
quences, 268 ; mode of its expression, 
270; necessity of efficient organs, 
ib. : the newspaper press, 271 ; public 
meetings, 276; elections, 277; asso- 
ciations, 278 ; comparative influence 
of urban and rural population, 279; 
the discernment of opinion, 280; the 
effect upon it of national character- 
istics, 281 ; of class characteristics, 
293 : local types of opinion, 307 ; in 
the East, 308; West, 311; Pacific 
slope, 312; South, ib.; tendency to 
homogeneity, 313 ; analysis of opin- 
ion in England, 317 ; different phe- 
nomena in America, 321; its influ- 
ence exerted through elections, 323 ; 
independent opinion and the great 
parties, 326, 334; its influence on 
officials, 327 ; mutability of electoral 
bodies, 328: private agencies for the 
expression of opinion, 329; its rela- 
tion to the regular party organiza- 
tions. 330; its activity less continu- 
ous than in Europe, 331 ; tyranny of 
the majority, ■>•)') : in Congress, 336 ; in 
the States. :;:;7 ; in the action of pub- 
lic opinion. 338 : improvement in this 
respect, 340; its defects as a govern- 



ing power, 354 ; fatalism of the mul- 
titude, 344; its effecl on the action 
of opinion, 353; difference in this 
between States and the whole Union. 
358; its merits, 303; educative influ- 
ence on newcomers, 367 ; its influ- 
ence on public appointments, 370; 
on foreign policy, 371 ; influence of 
a capital on public opinion, 791 ; ef- 
fect of the absence of a capital in 
America, 796 
Orangemen and Irish Catholics, ii. 604 
Oratorical excellence, nature of, ii. 
799; how far attained in America. 
800; American defects, ib.; differ- 
ent kinds of oratory, 801 ; three 
kinds specially developed in Amer- 
ica, 803; reserve of audience, 805 
Oratory, and the parties, ii. 233 
Oxford University, Parliamentary rep- 
resentation, ii. 191; and the Thirty- 
Nine Articles, 242 

Palmerstox, Lord, referred to, ii. 
230 

Parliament, English, a sovereign and 
constitutional assembly, i. 35 ; re- 
ferred to, 56, 166, 174:, 251, 254, 255, 
285 sqq., 559; ii. 268 

Parties, Political, in America : their de- 
velopment, i. 6; effect of the strug- 
gle over the Constitution of 1789, 
26; their interference with presi- 
dential elections, 42, 44; growth of 
a Federalist party, 92, 388 ; ii. 6 ; in- 
fluence of parties in the Senate on 
foreign policy, i. 108; their cohesion 
in Congress, 150; no real party gov- 
ernment in America, 292; State 
parties engulfed by the National, 
565 ; causes of this, 567 ; its results, 
568; cases of genuine State parties. 
572; factions, ib.; party spirit in 
rural local government, 576; in 
cities, ib., 668; importance of the 
parties, 649 ; the great moving forces 
in America, ii. 5; their history, ib. ; 
Federalists and Republicans, 6: Na- 
tional Republicans or Whigs, and 
Democrats, 12 ; Republican party of 
1856, 14; the foundations of party in 
America compared with Europe, 16; 



INDEX 



the antithesis of liberty and order, 
18 ; no definite principles in the 
modern parties, 21 ; illustrations of 
this, 24 ; composition of the Repub- 
lican party, 30; of the Democratic, 
32; politics of immigrants, 34; of 
negroes, 37; influence of religion, 
ib.; geographical distribution of 
parties, 38 ; lesser organizations, 39; 
test of a party, ib. ; Greenbackers, 
ib., 212; Labour party, 41, 42, 297, 
856; Prohibitionists, 42, 212, 559; 
Woman Suffrage party, 45, 208, 
549; the Mugwumps, 45, 46, 50; 
causes of the persistence of the 
parties, 48 ; eminent leaders less im- 
portant than in Europe, 51; the 
selection of candidates, 53, 84, 175; 
social influence of parties, 53 ; their 
connection with State politics, 54; 
the politicians, 55 (see Politicians) ; 
the best men indisposed for politics, 
69; party organization (q.v.), 76; 
types of statesmen produced, 228; 
public opinion and the system, 239; 
the strength of party founded on the 
national character, 290 ; Know-noth- 
ing party, 291 ; the parties and in- 
dependent opinion, 325, 333; their 
future, 816 

Party government a necessary evil, i. 
75; its meaning in America, 292 

Party organization in America: its 
perfection, i. 79; in Congress, 149- 
152, 201; the party caucus, 205; 
aims of a party organization in 
Europe, ii. 76; in America, 77; 
modes of selecting candidates, ib.; 
the American system, 78; its his- 
tory, 79 ; the Machine, 82 ; organiz- 
ing committees, ib. ; primaries, 85, 
93, 101, 166; nominating conven- 
tions (q.v.), 84, 175; procedure, 85; 
tests of party membership, 87 ; party 
loyalty, 88; profusion of elections, 
90; case of Ohio, ib. ; of Massachu- 
setts, 93 ; the results, 94 ; the work- 
ing of the Machine in the country, 
97 ; in large cities, 98 ; manipulation 
of elections, 100; the Rings (q.v.), 
107, 111, 116, 166, 275, 377, 404; the 
Bosses, 109, 114-116 ; Slates, Trades, 



and Tickets, 113; hatred of reform- 
ers, 116; revenues of the Ring, ib. ; 
sale of offices, 119; the system 
strongest in cities, 121 ; illustrations, 
121, 124; exceptional in rural dis- 
tricts, 127; and in the South, 129; 
spoils, 131 ; party organizations at 
elections, 152; presidential election, 
175, 203; organization in Massachu- 
setts, 875; lessons for Europe, 607- 
614 ; its future, 846 

Patents, i. 33, 89 

Patronage, i. 61-66, 109, 110; ii. 131 
sqq. See Spoils System 

" Patrons of Husbandry," ii. 646. See 
Grangers 

Patterson's "Federal Restraints on 
State Action," quoted, i. 377 

Paupers, i. 617 

Payment of legislators, i. 194; ii. 59 

Peel, Sir Robert, referred to, ii. 230, 
255 

Peers, English, creation of, by the 
sovereign, i. 288 

Pendleton Act of 1883, ii. 139 

Pennsylvania, State of, i. 43, 103, 125, 
183,564,608,635; ii. 32 

Pennsylvania judiciary, i..510 

Pensions, i. 89, 178 

Peoples' party, the, i. 573; ii. 31, 36, 
44, 212 

People, the, and the parties, ii. 237 

Philadelphia, City of, i. 635 ; ii. 163, 
329, 404, 424 

Philadelphia Convention of 1787, i. 23- 
25, 30, 222, 280, 312, 325, 669 ; ii. 5, 
267 

Philadelphia Gas Ring, ii. 404-424 

Philadelphia, "History of Municipal 
Development of," quoted, i. 636, 647 

Philanthropy in America, ii. 723 

Pierce, Franklin, i. 78, 84 ; ii. 182 

"Pinkerton's men," ii. 570 

Plan of the Work, i. 5 

Platform, the, in politics, ii. 330 

Plato, referred to in connection with 
democracy, ii. 760 

Plutocratic element in America, ii. 
613, 745, 748 

Police, the, in America, ii. 409, 568 sqq. 

Police administration in New York 
City. See Tammany Ring 



INDEX 



897 



Political Institutions in America, fu- 
ture of, fi. 840. See Future 

Political morality in England and 
America, ii. 241 

Politicians, Professional, in Europe, 
ii. 55; conditions of their develop- 
ment, 66 : the conditions in America, 
57 : and their results, 58: number of 
professional politicians, 60; their 
"work," 62; -ward politicians, 63; 
minor office-seekers, 64 ; party man- 
agers, 6.") ; non-professional politi- 
cians, 60; a term of reproach, ib.; 
their objects, place, and income, 68; 
the ablest citizens averse to politi- 
cal life, 69; causes of this, 70-75; 
party organizations, 76; Kings and 
Bosses, 107 ; professional politicians 
and the Spoils system, 136; struggle 
with reformers, 166 sqq. ; number 
of lawyers amongst politicians, 302. 
See Tammany Ring in New York City 

Political supremacy in Britain in the 
householder, ii. 317 

Political and social experiments in 
America cited as patterns and 
warnings in Europe, i. 2, 9 

Politics, American, unattractiveness 
of, i. 79, 199; ii. 65, 69 sqq., 235, 589, 
613 

Politics in England, a social fascina- 
tion, ii. 72 

Polk, President, i. 54, 78, 84 

Position of women, the, in America, 
ii. 728-743 

Postmaster-General, the, i. 86 

Postmasters and Civil Service reform, 
ii. 59. 

Post-office, the, i. 33 

President, the, i. 35, 36; reasons for 
creating the office, 38, 39 ; nature of 
his powers, 39, 40; mode of election, 
44, 46-51: ii. 203; re-election, i. 45; 
removal by impeachment, 51 ; his 
powers and duties, 53; the veto 
power, 58-60, 223-226, 288; pat- 
ronage, 61-66, 109, 110, 394; ii. 131- 
140; source of his power, i. 67; 
jealousy of ' the one man power,' 
68; dignity of the position, ib. ; 
defects of the system, 70-73, 298 ; its 
success on the whole, 73; impor- 

VOL. II 



tance of presidential elections, 74: 

the office as a social institution, 
75 : causes of the want of eminent 
Presidents, 78; brilliant gifts not 
required, 81 ; power of sectional 
feeling, ib.; position of ex-Presi- 
dents, 83; historical review of the 
Presidents, 84; his responsibility, 
91 ; relation to his ministers, ib. ; to 
Congress, 93, 94-96, 208-214, 284, 
288; the President, when attacked 
in Congress, 210; the President 
really a branch of the legislature, 
224 ; his veto power the real strength 
of the executive, 211, 224; conflicts 
with Congress, 291 ; his consent not 
required to Constitutional amend- 
ments, 365 ; claim to interpret the 
Constitution, 376; development of 
his functions, 401 ; origin of the 
office, 671; provisions of the Consti- 
tution, 697, 701; his position com- 
pared with a State Governor's, 531 ; 
Spoils system, ii. 131; never seri- 
ously charged with corruption, 156; 
mode of nomination, 176, 220; elec- 
tion campaign, 203; the issues at 
stake in a presidential election, 213; 
future of the office, 845 

Presidential campaign, the, ii. 203; 
influence of newspapers, 206; of the 
clergy, 207 ; of women, 208 ; parades, 
ib. ; the issues at stake, 213; nature 
of personal attacks on candidates, 
217; points of difference in English 
elections, 218 

Presidential election dispute of 1876, 
i. 47-50, 73, 270, 299 

Presidential election, sometimes a 
turning-point in history, i. 74 

Presidential election in France, i. 74 

Presidential electors, i. 40-40, 702, 
708 

Primaries, the, ii. 84, 85, 93, 98, 101, 
102, 166 

Private Bills. See Legislation (Special) 

Privy Council of England, i. 19, 95, 96, 
249, 385 

Prohibitionist party, i. 572; ii. 25, 42, 
43, 44, 212, 559 

Prohibitionists and the tariff, ii. 43 

Property tax, criticism on, i. 517 

3 M 



INDEX 



" Proprietors " in the North American 

colonies, i. 283 
Protection and Free Trade, i. 176; ii. 

20, 47, 214 
Protection and the tariff, i. 182 
Protection of citizens, provided for by 

the Constitution, i. 33, 709, 710 
Prussian Constitution,, referred to, i. 

220 
Prussian Herrenhaus, i. 97, 99 
Public agents, validity of their acts, i. 

243 
Public lands, wasteful disposal of, i. 

354 
Public life, bracing atmosphere of, in 

America, ii. 366 
Public opinion. See Opinion 
Public works, controlled by Congress, 

i. 90 
Puritanism, influence of, in America, 

i. (in Constitution) 306; traces of, 

415 ; ii. 20, 309, 715, 827 

Quorum in Congress, i. 125, 198 

Railroads, freight rates, i. 558; 
strike riots of 1894, ii. 600; black- 
mailed, 158, 650; abuse of free 
passes, 159 ; their wealth and influ- 
ence, 427, 441, 643-654; conflicts, 
646 ; inter-State Commerce Commis- 
sion, 647; their autocratic charac- 
ter, 650 

Railroad passes, granting of, to legis- 
lators forbidden by many States, ii. 
159 

Railway companies (English) , i. 244 

Railway kings (American) , ii. 653 

Redfield, Chief Justice, of Vermont, 
case of, i. 271 ; quoted, 445. 

"Referendum," the, i. 465, 467, 469, 
474, 609 ; ii. 71, 259, 355 

Reform Act (English) of 1832, i. 286 ; 
ii. 318-319 

Relation of the United States to 
Europe, the, ii. 781 

Religion and politics, ii. 37 

Religious denominations in America, 
ii. 704 

Religious equality, enforced by the 
Federal and State Constitutions, i. 
438, 706 ; ii. 695 ; in the Universities, 



687; explanation of the American 
view, 699; national recognition of 
Christianity, 702; legal position of 
religious bodies, ib. ; social equality, 
706 ; the charm of religious freedom, 
812 

Religious spirit of the Americans, ii. 
286; religion in the Universities, 
687; national recognition of Chris- 
tianity, 702; influence of religion 
on the people, 711, 714 sqq. ; gain to 
religion from the absence of State 
interference, 712; its influence on 
conduct, 714; on the imagination, 
724 

Representatives, Federal, House of, 
instances of election of Presidents 
by it, i. 46; influence on foreign 
policy, 54; mode of election, 124; 
speeches in, 119; character of its 
members, 129, 147 ; its powers, 129 ; 
procedure, 129-137 ; the Speaker, 
138, 401; the House at work, 142; 
its homogeneity, 148; absence of 
party leaders, 149, 201 ; effect upon 
the discharge of its functions, 150; 
American conception of its position, 
151; mode of voting, 152; its com- 
mittees, 154-164, 176, 177 ; results of 
the system, 159-164 ; why it is main- 
tained, 163 ; criticism of the House's 
legislation, 168 ; of its finance, 174 ; 
collisions with the Senate, 186 ; sal- 
aries of members, 194 ; short tenure 
of office and its results, 196; want of 
opportunities for distinction, 199; 
party caucuses, 205; how far the 
House is a party body, 206 ; number 
of members, 223 ; provisions of the 
Constitution, 697; oratory in the 
House, ii. 802; future of the House, 
845. See Congress 

Representatives, State, Houses of. See 
State Legislatures 

Representative system, essentials of a, 
i. 303 

Republican party of 1793 (or Demo- 
crats), i. 42; ii. 6; National Repub- 
licans or Whigs, of 1829, 12, 18-20 ; 
Republican party of 1856, ii. 21, 30, 
38, 184, 199; characteristic modern 
adherents of, ii. 31, 32 



INDEX 



899 



Revenue provisions of the Constitu- 
tion of California, i. 719 

Rhode Island, State of, i. 19, 21, 22, '2(5. 
55, 126, 197. 249, 413, 431, 434, 477- 
479, 488. 506, 567, 574, 621 

Riders to Appropriation Bills, i. 187, 
213 

Rings, ii. 107; mode of working, 111; 
revenues, 116 ; their local extension, 
120; ease of Cincinnati, 121; St. 
Louis, Louisville, and Minneapolis, 
123; St. Paul, 124; rural districts 
generally free from them, 127; 
modes of combatiug them, 166-174, 
275; Tammany Ring, New York 
City, 377; Philadelphia Gas Ring, 
404 

Robinson, J. H., on "Features of the 
United States Constitution," i. 673 

Roman Catholic Church, occasional 
outbreaks of hostility against, ii. 17, 
699 

Roman Catholics and denominational 
schools, ii. 338 

Roman praetor, i. 272 

Roman Senate, i. 221, 226 

Rome, Constitution of ancient, re- 
ferred to, i. 217, 221, 361 ; ii. 57, 265 

Roosevelt, Theodore, on misgovern- 
ment of cities, i. 540-542; ii. 103, 
119, 173 

Rotation in office considered essential 
to democracy, ii. 133, 134, 136 

Ruskin, influence exerted by his books 
on American art taste, ii. 788 

Salaries of Congressmen, i. 194-196 
Sand Lot party in California, ii. 429, 

435, 438 
San Francisco, ii. 432, 441, 445, 821 
Sanitation, an unimportant function 

of local government in America, i. 

HIT 
Scandinavian immigrants and Ameri- 
can polities, ii. 36 
Schedule, the, of a Constitution, i. 437 
Scott v. Sandford, case of, i. 263, 269; 

ii. 15 
Scottish law, different from that of 

English, i. 346 
Scott, Sir Walter, on Edinburgh mobs, 

ii. 226 



| Secession of a State impossible, i. 322, 
337, 344, 425 

Secession, War of, referred to, i. 25, 
55, 59, 73, 89, 125, 269, 274, 296, 308, 
310, 322, 337, 348, 366, 383, 422-425 

Second Chambers, utility of, i. 185 ; ii. 
610 

Secretary of the Interior, i. 86, 89; 
of the Navy, 86; of State, 86, 88; of 
the Treasury, 86, 88, 175; of War, 
86,89 

Sectionalism. See Local feeling 

Senate, the Federal : its control over 
foreign policy, i. 54, 106-109; pat- 
ronage, 61, 62, 109, 110; ii. 132; 
composition, i. 97 ; functions, 98 ; the 
Senate essential to the Federal 
Scheme, 98, 121 ; mode of election, 
100; of voting, 102 ; tenure of office, 
103; treatment of money bills, 104; 
procedure, 105, 118, 673; executive 
functions, 106; judicial functions, 
110; objects of its creation, ib. ; 
nature and causes of its success, 113 ; 
character of its members, 119; its 
place in the constitutional system, 
122; its Committees, 155; collisions 
with the House, 179, 186 ; salary of 
members, 194; quorum, 199; absence 
of party leaders, 201 ; party caucus, 
205; development of its functions, 
401; extracts from rules, 673; pro- 
visions of the Constitution, 698 ; its 
oratorical standard, ii. 802 ; its prob- 
able future, 845. See Congress 

Senates, State. See State Legislatures 

Seward, Mr., i. 88 

Share market, of New York, ii. 658 

Shaw, Dr. Albert, quoted, ii. 542 

Shaw's "Local Government in Illi- 
nois," i. 605 

Shopkeeper, the, in America, ii. 296 

Sieyes and the Reign of Terror, i. 
311 

Signal Service Weather Bureau, i. 90 

Silver, free coinage, and the Demo- 
crats, ii. 27 

Slave-emancipation proclamations of 
President Lincoln, i. 55 
j Slavery Question, the, i. 99 ; ii. 12 sqq., 
213, 340, 550 

" Slip tickets," ii. 143 



900 



INDEX 



Smith, Goldwin, on Canadian Consti- 
tution, i. 473 

Smith's Wealth of Nations, quoted, i. 
430 

Snow, Prof. Marshall S., on "City 
Government of St. Louis," i. 633 

Social and economic future of Amer- 
ica, ii. 852 

Social equality in America, ii. 706, 711, 
744 sqq.; existence of fine dis- 
tinctions, 752 ; effect of social equal- 
ity on manners, 755; its charm, 
810 

Social intercourse between youths and 
maidens in America easy and unre- 
strained, ii. 735 

Social life, influence of political par- 
ties on, ii. 53 

Solicitor-General, the, i. 90 

South America and the United States, 
ii. 534 

Southern Confederacy, the, i. 72, 209, 
683 

Southern States, population of the, ii. 
312; character of their statesmen, 
313; "mean whites," 314, negroes, 
316 ; relations with the North, 372 ; 
their future, 859. See, also, pp. 
469-490 

South, the, since the war, ii. 469-490 ; 
exceptional political and social con- 
ditions of the Southern States, 469 ; 
type of its civilization long moulded 
by slavery, ib. ; alien and unab- 
sorbed coloured population a pe- 
culiar and menacing problem, ib.; 
physical characteristics, ib. ; the 
plantation and the mountain coun- 
try, 470 ; contingents from the latter 
on the northern side in the Civil 
War, ib. ; the planter aristocracy, the 
" mean whites," and the negro, 471 ; 
break-up of old plantation life after 
the war, ib.; amnesty, and the prob- 
lems it brought with it, 472 ; temper 
of Congress in approaching the prob- 
lem of reconstruction, 473; head- 
strong violence of President John- 
son, ib. ; rejection of the Fourteenth 
Amendment, 474; the Reconstruc- 
tion Act, 474, 475; ratification of the 
Fourteenth and Fifteenth Amend- 



ments and readmission of Confeder- 
ate States to full political rights, ib. ; 
the Freedmen's Bureau, 474, 476; 
sinister activity of the " carpet-bag- 
gers," 476; roguery and plunder, 
477, 478; the spoilers run up the 
State debts, 478; outrages of the 
" Ku Klux Klan," 479; Federal re- 
pression ineffective, ib. ; political 
reaction in favour of self-govern- 
ment, 480 ; withdrawal of the carpet- 
baggers, ib.; the "colour-line" in 
politics, 481; the negroes and the 
suffrage, ib.; the new Democratic, 
or anti-negro party, 483; "bulldoz- 
ing" at the polls, and ballot-box 
stuffing, 483, 484; with white con- 
trol came industrial regeneration, 
486 ; the iron industry, ib. ; profitable 
extension of the cotton trade, 487; 
manufactures transform Southern 
life, 487 ; rise of a new middle class, 
488; educational progress, ib. ; civ- 
ilization in many respects still back- 
ward, 489; homicide rife, ib.; san- 
guine views, 490 
Spain, sale of Florida by, i. 27 
Speaker of the House of Representa- 
tives, i. 51, 131, 138-141, 401 
Speculation and betting, ii. 662 
Spoils system, the, i. 63, 394, 500, 642; 
ii. 50, 120, 121, 131-141, 166, 241, 589, 
846 
Stampede a convention, to, ii. 199 
State Constitutions. See Constitutions 

of the States 
State Executive : position of the Gov- 
ernor, i. 225, 479, 489, 494-496, 531, 
532, 533, 551 ; outlines of the system, 
479; executive councils, 494; other 
officials, 497 ; power of removal, 500 
State Governments: their relation to 
the National Government, i. 313, 325 ; 
restraints upon them, 317, 327; 
cases of resistance, 334; secession 
impossible, 338; large measure of 
independence allowed them, 338, 
418 ; political combinations amongst 
them, 345; the study of them com- 
paratively neglected, 411; causes 
tending to dissimilarity, 414 ; causes 
tending to uniformity, 416; fran- 



INDEX 



901 



chise, 419. 713; power over minor 
communities, 420; treason against a 
State. ib.\ State sovereignty, 422- 
426; history of State Constitutions, 
427-432, 477-471); mode of altera- 
tions, 432; their real nature, 433; 
their contents. 435; less capacity for 
development than the Federal Con- 
stitution, 444 ; development of State 
Governments, 450 ; growth of demo- 
cratic tendencies, 455; comparative 
frequency of change, 456; jealousy 
of officials, and of the Federal Gov- 
ernment, 459; protection of private 
property, ib. ; extension of State in- 
terference, 460 ; penalties not always 
enforced, 461 ; budgets, 512 ; forms 
of taxation, 514; exemptions and 
mode of collection, 520; amount of 
taxation restricted, 521 ; public 
debts, 523, 723 ; restrictions on bor- 
rowing, 524; working of the gov- 
ernment, 528 sqq. ; its defects, 655; 
remedies for them, 549-561; decline 
of its importance, 562, 574; change 
of character, 563; relation to the 
great parties, 565; ii. 52; decline 
of State politics, i. 574; local gov- 
ernment, 589; seats of, in small 
towns, ii. 58 

State Governors, i. 225, 226 

State interference, eagerness for, ii. 
542; its chief forms, ib. ; illustra- 
tions, 545 

State Legislatures: their relation to 
the Federal Senate, i. 100, 102; re- 
lation to the Governor, 225, 489, 490 ; 
relation to the State Constitutions, 
432, 4.35; to the courts of law, 436; 
distrusted by the people, 443, 468; 
their character, 468, 537 ; composi- 
tion, 479; the right of suffrage, 484; 
their numbers, 486; salaries, 487; 
sessions, 488, 534; powers of the 
Senate, 488; procedure, 489; consti- 
tutional restrictions on them, 490, 
687; business, 534; character of the 
members, 537; charges of corrup- 
tion, 540; ii. 161; local influence, i. 
544 : restlessness, 545 ; timidity, 547 ; 
philanthropy, ib. ; their defects sum- 
marized, 549 : safe-guards and reme- 



dies, 550; effect on their working <>f 
the political parties, 569; powers 
and characteristics of, ii. 355, 356; 
style of oratory, 802 

States-General of France, i. 183 

Statesmen, types of, in Europe, ii. 229 ; 
in America, 235; want of first-class 
men, i. 200; ii. 230, 593, 613 

States' Rights, i. 388, 422-426; ii. 6, 24 

Statutory recognition of party as a 
qualification for office, ii. 152 

St. Louis, City of, i. 633; ii. 123 

St. Paul (Minnesota), ii. 124 

Stevens, Thaddeus, i. 206 

Stimson, F. J., on the " Ethics of 
Democracy," ii. 543, 544 

Story's " Commentaries," cited, i. 236, 
262, 329, 480 ; ii. 624 

"Stump," the, ii. 232 

Suffrage, right of, i. 419, 710; ii. 99, 
608 

Suffrage, Woman, ii. 549-562 

Sunday observance in America, ii. 715 

Supreme Court, the Federal. See Judi- 
ciary (Federal) 

Surpluses, Annual, i. 181 

Sweden, Diet of, i. 183, 290 

Swiss Constitution and Government, 
referred to, i. 16, 23, 38, G6, 250, 260, 
299, 326, 338, 344, 350, 359, 371, 413, 
446, 465, 481, 495, 498, 575 ; ii. 71, 73 

Swiss Federal Court, i. 259 

Swiss railways, under control of gov- 
ernment, ii. 646 

Swiss Referendum. See Referendum 

Switzerland, cantons of, i. 413, 574 ; ii. 
41, 150, 259, 288 

"Talisman, The," Saladin quoted in, 
i. 80 

Tammany organization, ii. 101, 102, 
190, 379 sqq. 

Tammany Ring in New York City, ii. 
377^403 ; the city ' the seat of in- 
trigues and battle-ground ' of fac- 
tions, 377 ; doctrine of ' the Spoils to 
the Victors ' first formulated by New 
York politicians, ib. ; foreign popu- 
lation, poor and ignorant voters, led 
by shrewd and forceful party man- 
agers, 378; leading men neglect local 
civic duties, 379; early origin of 



902 



INDEX 



Tammany, ib.; Aaron Burr's malig- 
nant influence, ib.; Tammany pre- 
dominant as early as 1836 ; its mer- 
cenary objects, ib. ; nationality of 
its members, 380-381 ; Fernando 
Wood, 381, 382; W. M. Tweed, 383, 
384 ; Tweed and his friends capture 
the organization, 384 ; P. B. Sweeny, 
ib.; A. Oakey Hall, ib.; R. B. 
Connolly, 385; Albert Cardozo, 
George Bernard, and J. H. McCunn, 
members of the Tammany Bench, 
385; Governor J. T. Hoffman, ib. ; 
offices occupied by the junto, 380; 
executive power concentrated in 
Mayor Hall, 387 ; treasury plundered 
through jobs and contracts, 388; 
county court-house steal, 389; as- 
tounding advance of the city debt, 
ib. ; corruption rampant, 390 ; press 
muzzled or subsidized, ib. ; licentious 
luxury of the Ring, 391 ; dissensions 
and fall, 392 ; New York Times' ex- 
posure, ib. ; Nast's caricatures, 393; 
Governor S. J. Tilden's part in the 
exposure, 386, 393; Tweed's trial, 
Sweeny's flight, Cardozo's resigna- 
tion, 394; Tammany and John 
Kelly, 395; Richard Croker, and 
Tammany henchmen of to-day, 397; 
the Machine organization, 398; 
blackmailing and complicity with 
criminals, 399; assessing office- 
holders, ib. ; leaps and bounds of 
the city revenue, and reduction of 
city debt, 402 ; sense of public duty 
quickened, 403; progress of reform, 
ib. ; Tammany heavily smitten by 
the elections of November, 1894, ib. ; 
downfall of the Ring referred to, 641 
"Tancred," Disraeli's novel of, quoted, 

ii.78 
Taney, Chief Justice, quoted, i. 233 
Tariff, the, and lobbying, ii. 158 
Taxation : for Federal purposes, i. 33, 
104, 171, 333, 513 sqq.; for State 
purposes, 513 sqq. ; for local pur- 
poses, 614; mode of levying, 620; 
taxation in cities, 629 
Temper of the West, the, ii. 829-839 
Tenure of Office Act of 1867, i. 64; 
repeal of, in 1886, 227 



Territorial extension, problem of, ii. 
521-553 

Territories, the, i. 125, 229, 354, 578; 
their organization, 579; position of 
their citizens, 582; their conversion 
into States, 584 ; remarks on them, 
585; working of the system, 587; 
their delegates admitted to national 
conventions, ii. 180; women's suf- 
frage in the Territories, 552 

Texas, State of, area, i. 413; Constitu- 
tion of, 459, 491 

Texas v. White, case of, i. 322 

Thayer, J. B. (Harvard Law School), 
quoted, i. 448 

Thirteen original British colonies, i. 
19, 249 ; each a self-governing com- 
monwealth, ib. 

Thought, influence of democracy "on, 
ii. 757-766; in the case of America, 
760-766; recent developments of 
thought, 777 ; promise for the future, 
789 

Tilden, Mr., i. 48, 50 

Tocqueville, Alexis de, referred to, i. 
3, 116; ii. 39, 336, 341, 342, 527, 574, 
757, 782, 785, 848, 852 

Tories and Whigs in England, ii. 22, 
28. -See English Parties 

Town or Township system, i. 589, 592, 
594, 595, 601 sqq., 612, 622, 661 ; ii. 284 

Treasury, Secretary of the, i. 86, 88 ; 
his Annual Letter, 175 

Treaties, power of making, i. 53, 106- 
109 

Tweed, W. M., and Tammany, ii. 105, 
282, 383 sqq. 

Tyler, President, i. 330 

Tyranny of the majority, ii. 349; 
change in this respect in America, 
335-343, 576 

Union, Indestructibility of the Fed- 
eral, i. 323, 337, 344 

United States, splendour of the past 
reserved for them in the develop- 
ment of civilization, i. 2 

United States institutions of a new 
type — an experiment in the rule of 
the multitude, i. 1 

Unity, want of, in the American Gov- 
ernment, i. 294, 302 



INDEX 



903 



Universities. American: their influ- 
ence on politics, ii. 304; their his- 
torical and constitutional mono- 
graphs, 413; statistics of, 000, 607: 
their history. 663; their general 
character, 667-090: general obser- 
vations on them, 0iKH>l»4 

U.S. District Attorney, i. 238 

U.S. Marshal, i. 237 

U.S. Pacific Railway Commission and 
legislative corruption, ii. 160 

Utah, Territory of, i. 585 

Vax Burex, President, i. 84, 208: ii. 

182 
Vassal College, ii. 675, 690 
Venable's M Partition of Powers," 

quoted, i. 312, 323 
Venetian Councils, encroachment of, 

i. 226 
Venice, oligarchy of, influenced by the 

opinion of the nobles, ii. 255 
Veto power, the, in America : of the 

President, i. 58-61, 224-226, 291: 

ii. 328; of State Governors, i. 225, 

490, 495, 533, 551; ii. 360; proposed 

for Congress, i. 257 : of mayors, 624, 

660 
Veto power, the, in Canada, i. 473 
Veto power, the, in England, i. 61 
Veto power, the, in France, i. 60 
Vice-President facetiously named ''His 

Superfluous Excellency,'* i. 75 
Vice-President of the United States, i. 

40, 51, 97, 117, 300,401. 698, 702, 703: 

ii. 183 
Victoria (Australia), members' pay in. 

i. 195 
Villages, their place in the system of 

local government, i. 605 
Virginia Convention of 1788, i. 235 
Virginia legislature, on the Constitu- 
tion and Sedition and Alien Acts, i. 

335 
Virginia, State of, i. 19. 26, 43, 235, 

430 
Von Hoist on the "Constitutional 

Law of the United States," i. 475 
Voting, machinery of, ii. 143-145 

Wall Street and its influence on i 
American life, ii. 055-662 



Walpole, Sir Robert, England under, 
ii. 237 

War of 1812, the Union drifted into it, 
i. 343, 345 

War power of the President, i. 33, 
54 

War, Secretary of, i. 86 

Washington, City of, i. 76, 119, 199, 
578 ; ii. 135, 794 

Washington, George (President), i. 
21. 22, 23, 39, 44, 56-58, 75, 77, 85, 
92, 263, 400; ii. 7, 8, 131, 175, 373 

Washington, State of, i. 584; ii. 553 

"Wealth, influence of, in America, ii. 
575, 589, 613, 744, 749 

Webster, Daniel, i. 70, 84, 117 ; ii. 14, 
2:34. 373, 802 

Wellesley College, ii. 675, 690 

Wells, David A., on perjury, i. 517 

Western States of America, dis- 
tinctively American, ii. 311; their 
peculiar character, 828, 829; devel- 
opment, 829; their temper, 830; 
carelessness, 831; superstition, 832; 
local conception of greatness, 833; 
rivalry of Western towns, 835 ; their 
confidence, 8:36; air of ceaseless 
haste, 837 

West Indies, relations of the, to 
America, ii. 532 

Whig party, the, of 1830, ii. 12, 14, 29, 
30,39 

Whigs and Tories, English, and cor- 
ruption, i. 279 

Whips, Parliamentary, their impor- 
tance in England, i. 202 ; want of 
them in America, 203 sqq. 

Whiskey Ring of 1875, ii. 157 

Whiskey, women's war against, ii. 
330 

White House, the, i. 75, 76, 83, 213 

William and Marv, College of, ii. 
664 

Wilson, James, referred to, i. 22, 23, 
256, 360 

Wilson, Woodrow, quoted, i. 122, 161, 
177, 180 

Wisconsin, Constitution of State, i. 
459, 481 

Woman Suffrage, ii. 549-562 

Women, position of, in America: the 
suffrage, ii. 45, 208, 549-562; their 



904 



INDEX 



influence in politics, 208, 329, 330, 
731; education, 088, 732, 733; legal 
rights, 728; professional employ- 
ment, 729; freedom of social inter- 
course, 735; deference to women, 
737; their literary taste, 741; influ- 
ence of democracy on their position, 
742 ; results to themselves, ib. ; and 
to the nation, 743 



Women's Anti-Suffrage Association, 
ii. 500 

Working man, the, in America, char- 
acteristics of, ii. 290, 297 

Wyoming, State of, i. 441, 401, 585 : ii. 
552, 555 

Yale University, New Haven, ii. 071, 
072 



SOURCES OF THE CONSTITUTION 



UNITED STATES. 

CONSIDERED IN RELATION TO COLON ML AND 
ENGLISH HISTORY. 

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C. ELLIS STEVENS, LL.D., D.C.L., F.S.A. (Edin.). 

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